


All That You Can't Leave Behind

by DiscoNight



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, Basically I'm Sorry Everyone, Drug Addiction, Elias Is A Scumbag, Flashbacks, Homophobic Language, I'm Sorry Isak, I'm Sorry Jonas, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jealousy, Jonas POV, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Recreational Drug Use, S1 episode 2 Is Important, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Lust, Violence, post series 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 107,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscoNight/pseuds/DiscoNight
Summary: Isak looks at Even, with that soft and quiet adoration, the way he used to look at Jonas.  This should be a good thing, right?  No straight guy wants their best friend to be in love with them.Or: Jonas finds himself in a downward spiral when he realises his feelings for Isak were never purely platonic.  When a painful event from their first year rears its ugly head, he manipulates the situation to his advantage.This will get quite dark, people.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm going to apologise in advance for this. I have no idea what the appetite is for this type of Skam fic within the fandom, but I kind of love angst, and dark ~feelings~ between teenage boys, so obviously my solution to that was to inflict pain on Jonas, Even and particularly Isak for the purposes of my own gratification. Sorrrryyyy.
> 
> If you haven't watched the first series, you may want an explanation on Elias: In S1 episode 2, Eva and Jonas and a third-wheeling Isak go to stay in a cabin outside Oslo. Elias is a friend (implied to be a drug dealer) who Jonas invites without telling the others. There is some weird tension between Elias and Isak, with Elias calling Isak gay and Isak looking genuinely uncomfortable when Elias is around. This is probably due to him being jealous of Elias's friendship with Jonas, but I felt there could potentially be more to it than that, and so I've used an off-screen scenario for plot purposes. 
> 
> The plot itself for this fic is mainly set immediately post S3, but there will be numerous flashbacks in this chapter and throughout. I consider this all to be fairly canon compliant but I'm sure most people don't view Jonas as having any sexual feelings for Isak. That's fine, hopefully I've still presented a credible POV for him, but you may not wish to read if you have a genuine issue with this characterisation of him.

The Kosegruppa Christmas celebration was drawing to a close and Jonas was definitely drunk.  The _surprise!_ kind of drunk where he’d assumed he’d be fine because it was mainly Gløgg he’d been drinking, courtesy of Vilde, and then Mahdi had decided to slip a shitload of rum into the saucepan and suddenly he was feeling sad and awkward and lonely, and that was how Eva had found him.

More precisely he was slumped in an armchair, watching silently as Isak nestled into Even’s lap and kissed him hungrily.  The rest of the group chatted and laughed around them but it existed purely as background noise, static and indefinite.  Jonas was barely aware of anyone else in the room. So when he eventually realised there was someone next to him, he reluctantly swiveled his neck to see Eva perching on the arm.  She was looking over to where he had been staring.   _Staring_ , he told himself, because it dawned on him in his drunken state that staring was exactly what had been doing, and that maybe it was a little strange for him to be doing such a thing.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” she observed.  Isak was gazing into Even’s eyes like he was the only person in his orbit.  He was nodding slightly at something the other boy was saying, his forehead resting against Even’s.

“Sure,” he replied.

“Jealous?”

He dragged his gaze away and looked at her again, pretending to be confused by the question.

“No.  Jealous how?”

“Well, he used to look at you like that,” Eva said, voice lowering so that nobody could overhear her.  Her tone remained playful.  “Even straight guys enjoy that sort of attention, don't they?”

“Fuck off, Eva,” he growled lowly.  “That’s a shitty thing to say.  We’re best friends.”

“And?  You can be jealous that you’re no longer the most important man in his life without being gay for him.  It’s normal.”

“Is it?”  Jonas questioned sarcastically.  “Is it _really_ , Eva?”  He narrowed his eyes, looking back.  Isak was somehow burrowed even closer into Even’s lap now.  He wondered if Even would spring a boner soon.  If they disappeared off to the bedroom, Jonas would know for sure.  “I don’t give a shit.  I just hope Even is good to him, that’s all.”

“He seems like a nice guy to me.  Really sweet.  I think he’ll be perfect for Isak.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“And if I’m not? Does it matter?  We’re young and our relationships are meant to be messy.”

“Yes, but,” he sighed, shaking his head.  “The bipolar.  What if he… what if he really messes up?  And Isak has to deal with that?  Don’t you think he’s already got enough on his hands with his mum?”

“I don’t know.  Perhaps it’s best to believe the best in people, not the worst?”

The alcohol had obviously made her philosophical and Jonas had nothing left to respond.  Nothing that wouldn’t sound weird, anyway.   _I actually want to believe he’s not good enough for Isak_ was hardly going to go unchallenged by her.  

Eva eventually left with Chris, who couldn't resist shooting a smirk at Jonas before going, and therefore Jonas was free to watch, heart sinking, as Even whispered something to Isak, lips brushing against the younger boy’s ear.  Isak smiled contentedly, nodded and slowly removed himself from Even’s lap.  He stood up and stretched slightly, giving Even (and Jonas) a glimpse of his slim torso, before leaving the room with a cheerful wave at Vilde and Magnus, who were nestled into their own chair.  Jonas was pissed off about _that_ particular situation, too.  He’d tried his hardest to give Magnus the pep talk he’d needed earlier, before wise-guy Even had come into the kitchen and told him something completely different.   _Be desperate._ Magnus had sucked it up with the type of awe in his eyes that he reserved purely for Even, and it turned out that Even had been right on the money.  Of course.  Because Even was _perfect_ , apparently.

Jonas knew that jealousy wasn’t an admirable emotion, but he was finding it to be a permanent state of being now that Even always seemed to be around his friends.

He continued to watch the scene before him, twirling his beer in his hand.  A minute had passed since Isak had left the room. Even stood up and followed him out of the door.  From here, Jonas could look through and see him disappearing into Isak’s room.

So, it seemed the party was definitely over.

 

**

 

The day Isak stopped looking at Jonas like he was the most important thing in his life was the day everything went to hell.

Of course, like most journeys to hell, the starting point wasn’t clearly signposted.  Jonas had no way of knowing then that the gradual growth in emotional distance between him and his best friend would result in Jonas developing the most confusing and unwelcome infatuation he would ever experience in his life.  He knew that that if he was to ask any straight guy whether they wanted their best friend to be in love with them, their answer would surely be, “Of course not, that’s creepy.”  And so Jonas, for a while, deluded himself that Isak’s dwindling attention was in fact a blessed relief.  He liked Isak as a friend, and therefore he wanted Isak to like him back as a friend.  It was simple.

Simple.  That’s what he told himself.

The reality was somewhat different.  The reality was that Isak’s crush on Jonas, a crush that had never been verbally acknowledged by either of them, was a huge ego boost for Jonas.  At a time when he and Eva had grown apart, it was more than welcome; it was a reminder that he wasn’t completely undesirable.  And Isak was so fucking cute with those wide eyes and his eager-to-please nature and the way he couldn’t disguise his emotions when Jonas brushed against him or slung a casual arm around him or got undressed in front of him.

That probably should have been Jonas’s first sign that his feelings for Isak weren’t 100 per cent platonic himself, but he just put it down to being horny or high or drunk, as he was nearly always one of these three things, if not more, at any given time.  Even so he found himself going out of his way to give Isak a bit more attention than he would have done previously.  He tried to remember the things Eva liked him doing, that weren’t overtly sexual, and smiled at him a bit more often, became even more tactile, noticed if he was wearing a new hat or coat, complimented his choices.

But once the distancing from Isak started, it didn’t stop.  This was long before Isak had met Even; in fact Jonas first noticed it happening towards the end of first year.  He couldn’t quite pinpoint  _why_ it was happening but obviously he couldn’t talk to Isak about it, or anyone else for that matter, without sounding like a complete weirdo.

Jonas then responded by trying to make Isak jealous.  He started hanging out with Magnus and Mahdi more, but Isak barely seemed to notice; in fact he was fine with it, and when he eventually met them, in the break before the start of second year, he was perfectly friendly to them and obviously not at all bothered by being ‘replaced’.  The new group dynamics served only to make it easier for Isak to bail out on activities, knowing that Jonas now had back-up options.

By the time Jonas noticed Isak becoming distracted by some handsome third year guy, it hit him like a bolt from the blue, with all the pain he associated with being struck by something unexpectedly and at great force: Isak really wasn't in love with him anymore.

 

***

 

Jonas didn’t see Isak again before Christmas.  He texted him to find out what he was doing and Isak replied: _Staying at home with my parents for a few days._ No mention of Even; they weren’t at a stage yet where they’d spend Christmas together.  Jonas tried to put the two of them out of his mind but he got a text on the 28th December from Isak which sent him reeling.  

 _I: Meeting Even’s parents this evening helllpppp._ Followed by a worried looking emoji.

_J: Hmm, big step._

_I: What if they don’t like me?  I’m worried they’ll be comparing me to Sonja.  He was with her for so long._

_J: Just breathe.  He chose you, didn’t he?  And even she’s accepted it now.  Anyway they’ll love you.  Adults love your little gay face._

_I: Haha fuck you._

_I: We were actually meant to meet the day after the Kosegruppa Christmas thing but I freaked out and cancelled._

_J: Seriously man they’ll love you._

_J: Did you have a nice Christmas?  Was your mum okay?_

_I: She was great.  She’s doing really well at the moment.  You?_

_J: Boring to be honest._

_I: :(_

_J: Are you busy now?  Want to go for coffee?_

_I: I can’t.  Even is coming over soon to calm me down and then we’ll go to his.  Are you still going to Eva’s New Year’s Eve party?  See you then?_

_J: Of course :)_

He felt listless after the messages stopped coming in.  His own family were pissing him off now that Christmas was done with, and truthfully he just wanted to be out with friends, taking his mind off of Isak’s rapidly developing relationship with Even.  But because Magnus and Mahdi were tied up with their own family commitments, he fell into boredom and apathy, once again focusing his resentment on Even for no particular reason other than he was sure he’d be with Isak right now if Even wasn’t on the scene.

In the end he decided to do something he hadn’t done in over two months.  He phoned Elias.  He sort of hoped that his fairweather friend slash drug dealer would ignore his call, because he wasn’t entirely sure that getting in contact with him was for the best, but predictably he got through on the second ring.

“Hello, Jonas!  Where you at?”

He could hear laughter in the background, like Elias was at some sort of party.  He debated making an excuse and hanging up.  But why?  Fuck it.  He needed to get off of his face because he was starting to despise himself.

“Not much.  Hoping you could hook me up with the usual.”

“Yeah?  No problem.  How about you come over here?  I’m at my flat.  Got a few friends here but they’re all good, man.  You’ll like them.”

“Sure.  You still in Tøyen?

“That’s the one, man.  Well remembered.  See you soon?”

“Yeah.  I’ll head over now.”

He chucked on a hoodie and Isak’s red snapback that he’d nicked off him just before Christmas and headed out.

 

***

 

The day Isak ‘came out’ to Jonas had been a bitch of a day to start with.  Mahdi and Magnus were still pissed off with Isak for missing Magnus’s birthday celebration and then trying to pick a fight with Mahdi at some party, and Jonas was pissed off with him, not so much for that, but because he was _done_ with trying to coax Isak out of the closet.  He wasn’t proud to admit that he’d been lowkey monitoring Isak’s phone whenever he got the chance and had deduced that things had picked up a pace since Isak had started tensing up whenever that tall blonde guy, Even, was in the room or general vicinity.

Jonas hated it.  He hated having to humour Isak’s clumsy attempts to assert his straightness, and he hated not being able to stake his claim without looking completely irrational.  He hated that his affection for Isak meant that he wanted him to be happy and that he had no right to speak up and belittle what Isak was going through, even though it would have been so easy to keep Isak closeted and ashamed of who he was.

So Isak told him and he nodded and did the understanding friend routine.  Inside he felt torn and ugly and conflicted and he realised in that moment exactly what Isak had been going through last year when Jonas had been sounding off to him about Eva.

When Isak pulled out a note from Even, genuine surprise registering on his face as he read it, Jonas felt himself burn bright with resentment.  He buried it deep and told Isak slowly that Even needed to leave his girlfriend.  He hoped that it would not only embed itself in Isak’s mind, but that Even would be the type who would never leave a secure hetero relationship for an insecure, shy kid like Isak.

Afterwards they walked back home and Jonas realised that if this Even guy _did_ leave his girlfriend for Isak, if the two of them became an item, then these spontaneous meetings between Jonas and Isak would become fewer and further between.  Would they even be best friends anymore?  Without thinking too much about it, he stopped as they reached Isak’s door and pulled him into a hug.

“Hey, what was that…” Isak looked surprised but when Jonas pulled away, eyes shining with something that he hoped Isak didn’t understand, his best friend simply nodded and croaked out, “Thanks, man.  Thanks for… you know.  For everything.”

“Just promise me that you won’t let this _Even_ walk all over you?  And that I have permission to kick his arse if he messes you around?”

“You… yes, you have my permission,” Isak said, a smile creeping over his pretty features.  “But you don’t need to worry.  I can take care of myself.”  He flexed a bicep.  “I’m tough,” he said in English, and Jonas laughed slightly too loudly, letting out a vat of nervous energy.

“Sure.  Okay.”

“By the way?  This,” Isak gestured to the hug between them, “Really _gay_.”  He smiled, and Jonas laughed again, puffing out his breath.

He watched him disappear inside, waving one last time over his shoulder.  He wanted to drag him back and hold him until the street lamps illuminated and the street grew dark and silent.

 

***

 

He’d only intended to pick up a bag of weed at Elias’s place.  But when he got there, the haze of a mid-afternoon post-Christmas scummy house party was in full swing, and there were two really fucking hot girls draped over the sofa on one side of the room, and Elias plied him with one hell of an amazing joint as soon as he sat down.  He found himself properly relaxing for the first time in weeks, the afternoon at once stretching out and rushing past him, and as he downed beer and continued to smoke he lost all sense of time.  He found himself kissing one of the girls while the other stared at him raptly; he hadn’t felt this validated in months.

Elias was smiling across at him.  The girls stood up and one of them mumbled something about ‘going to freshen up’.  Jonas noticed blearily that they were the only four left now.  It was pitch black outside.  He didn’t want to check the time.  He was enjoying himself too much.

“You didn’t bring your shadow today?” Elias asked when they’d gone.  Jonas blinked at him.  “You know, the little blonde fag?”

“Oh.”  Jonas realised who he was talking about.  It had been hours since he’d thought about Isak.  He was kind of pissed off that Elias had brought him back up.  “Isak?”

“Yeah.  Isak.”  Elias laughed, tilting his head back.  His speech was even slower than usual.  “Man, that kid.  You still see him?”

“Sure.  He’s… yeah.  He’s a regular gay nowadays.  He has a boyfriend and everything.  So I don’t see him as much.  But he’s still a friend.”

“Seriously?  He came out?”  Elias whistled, low and possibly impressed, but there was a nasty, predatory expression on his face.  “All those protests that weekend in the cabin.  Embarrassing.  He made such a huge deal about sucking me off..”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t he tell you?  I was sharing the bedroom with him, remember?  Man, I was so fucking high and his mouth looked _so_ good.  I’d have fucked it all night if he hadn’t been such a whiny bitch.”

The room felt very still and very silent all of a sudden, despite the TV blaring in the background and the giggles and shrieks of the two girls in the bathroom.  Jonas blinked at Elias again, trying to get his head round what he was saying.  Elias must have picked up on the sudden change in Jonas’s temperament because he tried to change tack.

“Seriously man, it’s cool.  Nothing he didn’t want, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He sounded convincing enough.  But Jonas didn’t feel convinced.

“So he didn’t tell you no?  You said he was whining?”

“No, I mean… he was just worried about you hearing.  Shit I can barely even remember, to tell you the truth.  I’m sure he liked it.”  Elias grinned at him.  “Come on, you’re the one who’s just told me he’s a regular fag these days.  You don’t just start loving cock overnight.  I could tell he wanted it.”  He laughed at Jonas’s expression, making fun of his open mouth by imitating and exaggerating it, but if he could hear the blood rushing to Jonas’s head he wouldn’t have been laughing at anything.  “Surprised you never tried it, man.  He had such a huge fucking crush on you, it was embarrassing.”  He winked.  “He probably still does.”

Jonas lurched to his feet suddenly and Elias shrank back into his chair, fear crossing his face for one moment before the girls came back into the room, smiling coyly.  Jonas looked again at Elias to see him standing up, looking Jonas up and down with a wary expression on his face.

“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand in some kind of gesture of masculine solidarity.  “Let’s not fall out over a little bit of cocksucking, yeah?”

Jonas held his hand out but not to shake with Elias; he hit his outstretched hand out of the way and lurched forward.  Elias took a couple of steps back, adrenaline kicking in.  One of the girls demanded to know what was going on but Jonas ignored them, as did Elias.  He assessed the situation and knew he was too high and too off-guard to win this fight.   _Leave_ , he told himself.

“Fuck you,” he told Elias.  “Seriously, fuck you.”  He gathered up his hoodie and hat and headed for the door.

“Hey!” Elias called after him.  “You owe me for those fucking joints you've been smoking, fag!”

Jonas slammed the door shut, running down the concrete stairs of the building  to the ground floor.  He didn’t stop until he was at the bus stop, his heart pounding in his chest, each beat of it telling him _you need to see Isak_.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you so much for the lovely and generous response to chapter 1. I was incredibly nervous about posting it, not least because it's been a while since I've written anything substantial but also because I wasn't sure people would want to see this kind of fic. I'm so happy to know that there are some fellow angst-lovers out there who wanted something like this. ;-)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy chapter 2, and comments are very much appreciated.

They’d arrived at the cabin in good spirits.  When Jonas thought back to the holiday, he knew that much.  Sure, he was aware that Isak found it slightly embarrassing, acting as the third wheel to him and Eva all the time, and Eva had grumbled about Isak coming, because she’d wanted a romantic weekend with just the two of them.  But Jonas was pretty confident that she didn’t give a fuck, deep down, because Isak was always sweet and friendly towards her and she found his sweetness a refreshing contrast to Jonas’s tendency towards surliness.  And he was also confident that Isak would rather be close to him, even if it meant being close to his girlfriend, than not at all.

Jonas also knew that, for the first two days, Isak had been happy.  Like, _really_ happy.  They'd sat on the beach on the second evening, slightly drunk, trying to warm themselves by the weak-ass fire Jonas had made, and Isak was beyond delighted when Jonas had finally given in and played _I’m Yours_ on the guitar.  The smile that had broken out on his best friend’s face was infectious; the terrible singing even more so.  Of course, the memory of the evening had been tainted somewhat by Eva’s mood - Jonas had been resolutely ignoring her annoyance at something he’d done earlier, something he had no idea about and no desire to find out about - but Isak had been so grateful to be there with Jonas, and it made Jonas feel fucking good.  But still, Jonas had taken it all for granted.

The issues had started after Elias had arrived.  Jonas had realised that immediately, but he’d dismissed it as insignificant because that was the easiest option.  He’d seen Isak’s face dropping when Elias appeared outside, and he’d laughed along when Elias had taken the piss out of Isak as they’d sat out on the patio smoking.  He’d ignored Eva’s feelings completely, but that was nothing new.

What an absolute dick he’d been.

He remembered coming out of his room, the night after Elias had arrived, to get water.  His mouth felt like he’d been hoovering up salt and he could barely open it to breathe.  He was surprised to see a lamp light on in the lounge, and even more surprised to see Isak sat on the sofa, wrapped up in a hoodie that came down to his knees, his legs bare, pulled up to his chest.  He'd looked tiny and vulnerable.  And he’d looked fearful, as he glanced up for a moment, and Jonas had found that strange.  He’d laughed at him, confused, and asked him what was wrong.

“Nothing.  Nothing’s wrong.  I just, um. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

Isak swallowed painfully, his voice rough.  He jerked his shoulder, shrugging.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s not Elias, is it?  You know he’s just a joker.  Don’t take it all so seriously.”

Isak had stared at him for a moment, looking hopelessly lost.  Then he shook his head.  “No, it’s not… no.  It’s just… it must be the weed making me paranoid.  I don’t know.”  He ran a hand over his tired face and shrugged again.

Jonas nodded, and went to get some water.  When he came back Isak was waiting for him, eyes wide and hopeful.  Jonas knew he wanted him to stay up with him.  He knew that at the time and he definitely knew it now, looking back.  But instead of trying to do something nice for Isak, he’d just ruffled his friend's soft blonde hair as he walked past him and said gruffly, “Go to sleep, Isak.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, sorry, I will.”

He hadn’t found it strange when he came out the next morning to find Isak curled up on the sofa, a threadbare throw from the sofa pulled over him.  He’d just assumed he’d fallen asleep there.

He hadn’t even found it strange when Elias had made barbed comments at Isak for the rest of the day.  He thought that was just what Elias and Isak did; their particular dynamic.  He’d been too wrapped up in his own self-importance to notice that it always came from Elias, never Isak.  And that Isak seized up everytime Elias got too close to him.  He’d ignored that completely.

The worst thing? Elias had been there two nights.  And Isak had stayed up as late as he could on the second night, had practically begged Jonas to stay up with him, while Elias had watched from the corner, smirking.  But Jonas had simply mumbled something about ‘making it up to Eva’ and had left Isak and Elias alone.  He’d left Isak to go through whatever it was Elias had planned for him, and he hadn’t recognised any of the warning signs.

 _No wonder Isak stopped loving you_ , he thought to himself now, as he travelled back from Elias’s flat on the bus.   _You couldn’t even protect him from something happening right in front of you._

 

***

 

It was almost two in the morning by the time he got home; he had no idea how he’d spent so much time doing precisely nothing at Elias’s place.  He tried ringing Isak’s phone but of course he wasn’t answering.  So he texted _Call me when you get up, it’s important_.  Then he turned up the volume on his phone and attempted to get some sleep.

He woke up to Isak’s name and face - a goofy selfie he’d taken on Jonas's phone one night while drunk - lighting up the screen, the ringer much louder than it needed to be to wake him from his restless slumber.  He shook himself out of it, trying to remember what he wanted to say.  It was almost 7.30am; Isak was up early.

“Hello,” he answered.  Isak greeted him in return, then asked: “What’s up, man?”

“This is early,” Jonas said, stalling for time.  Now that he was talking to Isak he genuinely had no idea what he wanted to say, or how to say it.

“I’m at Even’s parent’s house.  I slept over.”  It wasn’t really an explanation as to why he was up already, but Jonas could guess that he was probably still full of nervous energy that had brimmed over from the night before and was now preventing him from sleeping in peacefully.  Isak had always been a light sleeper.

“Did… did it go okay with them?”

“Yes, it was surprisingly good.  They’re nice.  Well, his dad’s a liiiiitle bit scary but nothing I couldn’t handle,” Isak said, playfully exaggerating a tough tone of voice.  There was a pause and then Isak said awkwardly, “Look... um, is everything okay? Because I’m kind of in the bathroom trying to keep my voice down so I don’t wake up anyone up.”

Jonas tried to push back thoughts of Isak - frightened, terrified Isak - telling Elias to stop; thoughts of Jonas oblivious in the bedroom next to him.  He hitched his breath and then remembered to answer.

“No, yeah, it’s fine.  Sorry.  I can’t… I got high last night and I can’t remember why I even texted you.  Sorry.”

“Oh,” Isak laughed sweetly.  “That’s good.  You had me worried for a minute.  Were you with Mahdi and Magnus?  Has Magnus recovered from the Christmas party yet?  I bet he won’t shut up about Vilde!”

“No, I wasn’t with them.” Jonas said.  “Um, I went round to Elias’s place.”

There was a slight, noticeable pause.  When Isak replied, Jonas could hear the slight strain to his voice.  “Cool.  Didn’t think you were still in contact with him?”

Jonas swallowed away the anger he felt engulf him, not wanting Isak to hear it.  “No.  Well, I’m not.  Not really.”  He wondered if now was the time to ask.  Now that they were talking about Elias.   _No, of course not_ , he snapped at himself.  He had to do this face to face.  He needed to _see_ Isak, needed to hold him when this came out.  He couldn’t leave that to Even.  “Look, I do need to talk to you but it’s not… it isn’t urgent.  But maybe before New Year’s Eve?”

“Okay,” Isak said.  He hummed, thinking out loud.  “What day even is it? I think I can do tomorrow afternoon?  No family commitments,” he said with a sigh of relief.  “Coffee?”

“No, come round to mine.”

“Okay.  I’ll text you?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye, Isak.”

He checked his phone once the call had ended.  There were the usual notifications which he scrolled through, a message from Eva in the NYE group chat asking everyone to bring ‘a lot of alcohol’ to the party, and finally, his heart sinking at the sight, a message from Elias.

_I wasn’t fucking playing, you still owe me.  Bring it round NOW._

Angrily, he fired back: _If I see you I will fucking kill you._

Elias had sent the message shortly after Jonas had fallen asleep last night: he would probably be in bed for the rest of the day so Jonas didn’t hang around for a reply.  Instead he got himself ready, showering and changing and brushing his teeth furiously, trying to remove the stench and disgust of associating himself with Elias.  He even changed his bedsheets, much to his mum’s bemusement, and then went back upstairs with the vacuum, and polish and dusters for the surfaces.  

By the time he’d finished this deep clean, it was just before ten and he still had the whole day to try and waste.  He had no idea what he was supposed to do with his time, counting down the hours until he could see Isak tomorrow.

Eventually he had a realisation that he couldn't believe he hadn't considered before.   _Eva. You need to talk to Eva about that weekend in the cabin._ She had been there, after all.  Maybe she’d noticed something that he hadn’t.

He went round without texting her.  He was afraid that if he texted her, she would want to know what it was about and he would lose the courage to do this.  He had to do it quickly, like ripping off a plaster, and he figured she would be in: she always had a tendency towards sleeping late in the holidays.

Sure enough, as he climbed through her bedroom window, he could make out a figure underneath the bedsheets and he cleared his throat.  He wasn’t expecting, however, to see Penetrator Chris staring at him blearily from underneath the covers.  Chris’s expression quickly turned to one of mild annoyance when it dawned on him that Eva’s ex boyfriend was still in the habit of climbing through her bedroom window.  “Eva’s in the bathroom,” he said.  “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I needed to talk to her.”

“Oh, really?  You couldn’t text her like a normal person?”

“Look,” he said, sighing.  “I’m not trying to steal your girl, okay?  I just really need to talk to her.  It’s important.”

“ _Steal my girl_ ,” he said, mimicking Jonas.  “One, she isn’t _my girl_ .  We’re having fun, okay?  Two, you couldn’t _steal my girl_ even if you wanted to.  That’s kind of what _I_ do.  I’m the goddamn _authority_ on stealing girls.”

“Right.”  Jonas said.  He made a point of sitting down on the bed, even though there was probably stuff on the sheets he didn’t want to be sitting close to.  “Are you going now, or…?”

“Is it a private conversation you’re having?”

“Yes.”

“Then maybe I should stay.  It sounds fun.”  He propped himself up by his elbow and peered suspiciously at Jonas.  “Now tell me,” he said, in a riposte of a therapist’s voice,  “Is everything okay, Jonas?  Would you like to lie down on the couch over there and tell me all about it?”

“Fuck off, dickhead.”

“Jesus, you’re easy to wind up.  It’s no fun.”  He shook his head and shrugged, standing up.  He was completely naked and Jonas looked away, annoyed, as Chris smirked at him.

“I mean, I’m not saying Eva upgraded,” he said conversationally as he looked around for his boxers, finally locating them at the end of the bed.  “But your face is telling me you know she did.”

“I thought you weren’t her _boyfriend_.”

“I don’t feel the need to define our relationship to you, Jonas.”

He finished dressing in silence, though the smirk was still present on his face throughout, and he was just pulling on his shoes when Eva came back from the bathroom, wrapped in a pink dressing gown, towel-drying her hair.  She paused, slightly confused, when she realised Jonas was now in the room as well.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” she replied.  She looked at Chris, who shrugged.  When he’d finished with his shoes he stood up and kissed her on the cheek, side-eyeing Jonas as he did so.  

“I’ll see you both at the party,” he said.  Eva nodded, and Jonas shrugged.  There was a pause and he huffed out, “Bye then.”

“Oh!”  Eva finally seemed to realise that her silence was perhaps a bit rude (and that unlike Jonas she actually cared about being rude to Chris), and she followed him over to the window.  “Bye, Chris,” she said, low and sexy.  She kissed him again, on the mouth this time, and he perked up at that.  Then he was up and out, his slim body fitting through the window far more gracefully than Jonas had managed.

And now they were alone and all of Jonas’s resolve to talk to Eva about what had happened in the cabin faded as he realised the implications this would have for Isak.  The truth was that Eva was a gossip.  She didn’t mean to be, but she had four very persuasive friends who all meant extremely well, and who would all be ultra concerned for Isak if they even got a hint from Eva that something had happened to him.  So when Eva stared at him with a raised eyebrow and said, “What?  Has someone died or something?” he found himself reaching for a reason that he didn’t have prepared.  And he simply couldn’t do it.

Eva came and sat down next to him.  Her hair smelt of strawberries - she’d changed her shampoo recently, it never smelt this good when Jonas had been in a position to notice - and the first words out of her mouth were, “Is this something to do with Isak?”

He looked at her, genuinely surprised, eyes questioning how she knew, and she sighed.  “Well, you haven’t got a girlfriend to obsess over at the moment so I figure you’ve just transferred all that tension to poor Isak."

“No… no, it’s not…” She was making it sound like he was in love with Isak, or obsessed with him.  And maybe he was at least one of those things, but that wasn’t what he’d come here to say, and he felt he could lie convincingly enough about that, provided he told her about Elias.  “Look, if I tell you something, and no it’s _not_ what you’re thinking, you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.  Okay?  Not even Noora.”  She opened her mouth to agree and he added, “Not even _Sana_ .  Not even when she fixes you with that scary expression of hers and demands to know all your inner secrets.  Do you understand?   _Nobody_.”

She nodded, and she looked sincere.  It had to be enough.

“It _is_ about Isak, but like I said, it’s not that I’m in love with him or… anything like that.  Okay?”  She nodded again.  “It’s about something that happened in first year.  And I needed to see if you remembered anything about it.”

“Okay, try me.”

“You know when we went to the cabin that time?  In October, I think?”  

She rolled her eyes.  “Yes, the holiday from hell.”

He swallowed, knowing it had to come out now.  “I invited Elias.  Do you remember?”

She looked at him, with an expression that suitably conveyed: _Can you believe this guy?_  “Yes, Jonas.  Yes, I think I remember that absolute douchebag coming and ruining it even more.”  She looked at him, confused.  “I’m surprised you even want to bring him up.  You know I hated him.”

“Why _did_ you hate him so much?”

“Because!  Because you acted like a completely different person round him.  Because all you wanted to do was get high with him and act like I wouldn’t notice that something was off about you.  Because even Isak couldn’t stand him, and you didn’t even care about how he felt, let alone -”

“Isak hated him?” he interrupted.  She rolled her eyes.

“Yes.  Didn’t you notice?”

He had obviously noticed that Isak was uncomfortable around Elias but he’d put that down to Elias’s ‘teasing’ of him, and Isak’s jealousy at having to compete for best friend status.  A smaller, darker part of him was ashamed to admit, even to himself, that he liked Isak’s jealousy of Elias, that it made him feel special to have a sweet, needy thing like Isak trying desperately to stay in Jonas’s good graces.  He pushed that feeling down, looked at Eva, and answered unconvincingly, “No.”

“Right.”  Eva sighed.  “Jonas, why did you want to talk about it?  You know that I don’t like to go over that shitty time.”

“I found something out, about Elias, and I… it made me wonder if he’d maybe… like, did he come on to you at the cabin?  Did he… did he try to push you into anything?”  He knew the answer was no, that Eva would have told him, but he didn’t know how else to bridge the gap.

She shook her head.  “I don’t think I was ever alone with him.  What did you find out?”  Something dawned on her and she put her hand to her mouth.  “Do you think he did something to Isak?”

He stared, and then gave the slightest, almost imperceptible nod.  Her hand dropped away and she looked down at her knees, inhaling violently.  “Who told you?  Isak?”

“No.  Elias… I went round to see him yesterday and we got high, and... and he was bragging about it.”  He finished weakly, “But maybe Isak wanted it?  Elias said he wanted it, and, you know.  Isak didn’t _just_ turn gay, so maybe…?”

Eva looked at him fiercely, her eyes blazing with a sudden anger that made Jonas recoil.  “Fuck you, Jonas.  You saw what he was like around Elias.  He was scared of him.  Shit, I remember him trying to find stuff to do for me, just so he wouldn’t have to go and sit with you guys.  That was when you were _there_.  They were sharing a room, Jonas.  Oh God.  We just let it happen.  They were in the next room and we didn’t even realise.  Fuck, Jonas, we need to go to the police, we need to -”

“Eva,” Jonas said, grabbing her wrist.  “You _promised_ you wouldn’t say anything.  It isn’t our place to report it.  Please, you need to calm down.”

Instead of calming down, Eva burst into tears.  Jonas ran a hand over his face, berating himself for ever sharing this with her.  Now she would feel as guilty as he did, even though she’d done absolutely nothing wrong.

“I just remembered,” she said between sobs.  “I found him on the morning we were leaving.  Elias had already gone, he disappeared sometime the night before.  Do you remember?  I came out the next morning and I found Isak out on the patio and he… I think he was having a panic attack.  He couldn’t breathe, I had to try and calm him down but he was in such a mess.  He kept begging me not to say anything to you even though he could barely talk.  I was useless, I didn’t know what to do, but he eventually got there on his own, started breathing at a more normal pace.  He said… I don’t know, he said something about his mum sending him a shitty text and that he was stupid for getting upset by it but I didn’t get the sense that he was telling the truth.  But I couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d be like that so I accepted it.”  She had almost stopped crying now, the shock of realisation competing with her anger.  “He was fine after that.  He was the only one of us that even bothered trying to make conversation on the way home.  Do you remember?”

Jonas nodded.  He remembered being irritated with Isak on the way back, for being so oblivious, when the holiday had felt like such an unmitigated disaster.  He remembered snapping at him, telling him,  _No wonder Elias thinks you're such a dork_.  Isak's face dropping, a slight grimace of embarrassment and self-loathing as he'd turned to stare out of the coach window.

Jonas and Eva sat together in painful silence, listening to the radio drifting through from the bathroom.  When she asked him what he was going to do, he sighed deeply and shrugged.  She pulled him close and held him, even though he could feel her anger at him pushing her heartbeat faster.

“Maybe you should tell Even?” she finally concluded.  “He knows Isak better than anyone right now.  Maybe he would convince him to report it, to help him through this?”

He pulled away from her, jealousy distorting his face into an ugly, sneering expression, and he stood up like a spring, tension releasing from his body.

“ _I_ know Isak better than anyone.  He’s my best friend, Eva.  If anyone’s going to _help him through this_ it’s me.”

Eva threw up her hands in annoyance.  “Go for it, Jonas.  Do whatever the hell you want.  Just remember that he may hate you for letting it happen in the first place.”  Her tone was cold and cruel and she looked shocked at herself for even saying the words.  “I’m sorry.  I… I didn’t mean that.   _Fuck._ This has fucked me up in the head, Jonas.”

“I'm sorry.  I'm sorry for dropping this on you.  But you promise not to talk to him, or anyone else?”

She looked like she wanted to take the words back, but eventually she nodded.  “It isn’t my place.  I barely see him these days.”  She looked up, suddenly hopeful.  “There’s always the possibility he’s dealt with it?  Maybe it’s best to keep it in the past?”

He’d considered that himself but he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave it, even if it was for the best.  “I don’t know.  I honestly don’t know.”

“If… you do need to talk.  You know where I am.”

He went to leave via the window but she rolled her eyes.  “You’re not my boyfriend anymore, sneaking in and out.  Besides, mum’s not even here.  Use the fucking door.”

When he was outside he checked his phone and saw a message from Elias.  There was a picture attached.  He couldn’t unlock the screen with his thumbprint, he was sweating too much, so he entered his pin code twice incorrectly, tensing up each time, and finally got it on the third attempt.

Elias had written: _Come round with the money today or I’ll go talk to Isak about what happened that night. Guess we’ve got some stuff to clear up to stop you worrying man. ;)_

The picture was a screenshot from Google maps, zoomed in on Isak’s address.

Jonas shoved the phone in his pocket, hands trembling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for taking the time to read and comment on Chapter 2. I really am overwhelmed by the positive response to this fic and as always, would love to know your thoughts on Chapter 3, which was pretty emotional to write for various reasons (you'll hopefully understand why by the end of the chapter.)
> 
> Some people are questioning whether Jonas is going to end up as a villain in this. It's kind of complicated as he's going to do some not-so-great stuff, but I am not writing him as a villain. Just as a flawed individual who is battling with some issues of his own.

Jonas travelled to Elias’s place as soon as he’d left Eva’s.  He was stone-cold sober and wanted to keep it that way.  His hands, cold through from not wearing gloves, automatically balled into fists as he sat at the back of the bus from one side of the city to the other, as though his brain was expecting Elias to appear before him at any moment.  His whole body felt wired, tight, ready for a fight.  Ready for pain.  

But when he rapped sharply on the door to Elias’s flat, nobody answered, and when he tried calling, Elias’s phone was switched off.  There were no lights on inside and he could only surmise that he’d gone out.  Adrenaline started to dissipate from his body and he realised he was disappointed.  His body had been preparing itself to punch Elias until the scumbag was a bloody, begging mess, and now it had been denied the opportunity it started to slump, facing defeat.

He shoved an appropriate amount of money through the letterbox and texted Elias as he made his way down the stairs:  _ You weren’t in so I’ve put the money through your door.  Don’t ever contact me again. _

Elias had answered by the time he got home:  _ You’re acting like I’m a psycho or something?!  But anyways thanks for the money.  Say hi to Isak for me. _

He put his phone away, trying to suppress the sheer panic he felt at the implied threats Elias was sending about Isak.  He tried to burrow down into his bed, the late night yesterday and the emotional rollercoaster of today engulfing him, but sleep still wasn’t forthcoming.  Desperate, he opened the drawer to his bedside table where he kept packets of over-the-counter pills that he’d picked up at various parties and family friends’ houses, rifling through until he found the strong sleeping pills that always knocked him out completely.

He swallowed two and within minutes was finally, blessedly asleep.

 

***

 

Jonas had met Elias the summer before last, at a party.  It was the same party Jonas had ‘officially’ gotten together with Eva.  He was completely off his face when he’d first kissed her, which was a secret he would take to the grave.  He knew that if he’d told her, she would take it as a personal insult; it would forever taint her idealised version of the event.  And maybe she was right.  If he hadn’t been high, he doubted he would have worked up the courage to take her in his arms, in front of Ingrid and their group of friends, in order to kiss her urgently and hungrily.  It would be even worse now, if she found out Elias had supplied him with his first taste of drugs.

He hadn’t thought much about Elias at the time, but Elias seemed to remember him after that first meeting and started calling him more and more to hang out.  He was a couple of years older than Jonas, but he’d dropped out of school and depended on selling drugs to pay the rent.  Jonas didn’t struggle to pay for them, so it was a mutually beneficial friendship.  His parents deposited enough money into his account each month that he never had to worry about making ends meet.  When he’d let that slip one evening, as he was crashed out on Elias’s sofa,  the older boy had let out a cold laugh, tinted with envy, and muttered something about rich kids slumming it with dealers.

But they got on.  Jonas didn’t want to admit that now, but it was true.  He’d enjoyed Elias’s seemingly uncomplicated presence.  Eva was having daily meltdowns because of something Ingrid had posted online, or something that had been stuck in her locker at their new school, and he needed a break from it all.  He liked Elias’s biting sense of humour and his impeccable collection of rap music.  He really liked his drugs.  

There were times when he wasn’t so sure; when Elias talked about and ranked women like they were cattle, and particularly when he asked to see pictures of Eva (“Come on man, I know you’ve got some good stuff on your phone.”)  But it was just part of his humour.  He didn’t really mean it, it was just the way older guys talked about that kind of stuff.  That became the bass line for their friendship, the mantra Jonas repeated in his head, and often to other people, whenever they were together.   _ Elias is just joking _ .   _ Don’t take it so seriously. _

His first memory of hanging out with both Elias and Isak was at a barbeque in a park close by to the school.  It was a start-of-term event at Nissen that some socially-minded third year had organised, and though it wasn’t the sunniest of days for hanging out on the grass, drinking beer and cider, it was clear and dry and the chill in the air seemed to make the alcohol go down better.  Jonas was stoned and happy.  Eva hadn’t come, for whatever reason, and he felt like a leash had been released from his neck.

Isak had been trying to talk to a small group of girls who had formed a small huddle on a patch of grass just across from them.  Jonas and Elias were slightly too far away to hear what he was saying, but judging from Isak’s earnest expression and exaggerated hand gestures he was attempting to flirt with one of them.  Jonas tapped Elias on the shoulder, smirking, and gestured over.  “He’s so hopeless with girls, it’s hilarious.”

They watched, Jonas trying not to laugh too loud (and Elias laughing loud enough for the both of them) as the girls gradually lost interest and closed ranks on Isak.  He pulled an awkward face and, noticing Jonas and Elias were watching, tried to front it out as he walked back over and collapsed on the grass beside them.  He picked up his beer and raised an eyebrow when he saw they were still regarding him with amusement.

“She wasn’t my type, okay?”

“Because she didn’t have a dick?” Elias sniggered.  Isak looked at him, then at Jonas, acute embarrassment slipping through his attempts at a nonchalant expression.  “Actually,” Elias continued, craning her head, “I think maybe she does have a dick.  Looks like a guy from this angle.  Is that why you went for her?” 

“Elias,” Jonas said, laughing, “Seriously, give it a rest.”  His tone, though, wasn’t exactly imploring Elias to do anything of the sort.

“No, I mean, I’ll admit when I was wrong, and I was wrong.  She  _ definitely _ has a dick.  But maybe it wasn’t big enough for you, Isak?  You only like guys with big dicks, right?”

Jonas had no idea why he’d found it so funny, but he kept laughing even as Isak’s cheeks turned pink and he made an excuse about getting another drink to walk away from Elias’s comments.  Jonas eventually stopped laughing, shaking his head in mock disapproval at Elias.

“He’s going to be pissed off about that all evening, now,” Jonas commented.  Elias shrugged, taking a gulp of his beer.  He leered at the bare legs of a pretty second year walking past.

“Send him to me, I’ll sort him out.”

Jonas didn’t want to remember any of this stuff but he replayed it constantly in his head as punishment for missing it the first time around.  The stuff about Isak being gay, okay; Jonas could be forgiven for ignoring that.  It was just a playground insult, it meant nothing.  He was guilty of using it himself on occasion.  

But he  _ had _ chosen to ignore the more insidious stuff.  The implied remarks about Isak being a slut, the way that Elias would grab at Isak’s hips as he walked past, the way he undermined him at every opportunity.  One night, months after the holiday at the cabin, Jonas and Isak had gone to a party together and Isak had been in high spirits, his voice carrying from inside the house as he sang along loudly and tunelessly to something on the stereo.  Other party-goers were laughing and encouraging him in good spirits; Jonas was outside, rolling his eyes fondly.  

And then Elias had turned up late and immediately parked out on the patio with him, rolling up a joint.  He tilted his head, worked out who was singing, and muttered, “Jesus, he needs a cock shoved down to his throat to shut him up.”  Jonas remembered thinking it was a weird comment to make but he’d laughed anyway, because it seemed easier than trying to challenge it.  

He had been so willfully clueless, and everything that was happening now - this nightmare he’d found himself in - was a direct result of all those times he’d fucking  _ laughed _ at a predator talking about his chosen victim.

 

***

 

He’d underestimated just how strong the pills were.  The first thing he was aware of when he woke up was his phone ringing constantly.  He felt about for it, shielded his eyes against the glare of the phone screen.   _ Isak.  Fuck.  Isak was here. _  His fingers fumbled uselessly to answer it and he mistakenly hung up instead.  He swore loudly, immediately calling back.  Isak picked up on the first ring.

“Hi!”  He tried to sound brighter than his clogged-up throat was willing to allow, and it came out as a rasp.

“Hi,” Isak replied, sounding confused.  “Um, we’re trying to get in but you’re not answering the door?”

“Fuck, what’s the time?”

“Like, one in the afternoon?”  Isak laughed.  “Are you seriously still in bed?”

“Hang on.  One minute.”

He ended the call and eased himself from his bed, pulling on jeans and a hoodie, before taking a few seconds to collect his composure in front of the mirror.   _ You can do this _ , he told himself.   _ You can support him through this. _

When he opened the door, however, Isak was standing with Even, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Seriously, if it’s a bad time…?”

Jonas blinked at them both.  “No.  No, it’s not… um. Hi, Even.”  He remembered then, Isak saying  _ we _ on the phone.  In his sleep-induced state he hadn’t noticed.   _ Of course _ , he seethed to himself,  _ Of course Isak can’t do anything without Even these days.   _ He mentally berated himself for not specifying that Isak needed to come alone.

“Hi,” Even replied, his mouth twitching in amusement at Jonas’s obvious confusion.  “It’s okay that I’ve come, right?  Isak said it would be.”

Jonas looked at Isak, who smiled at him, his face innocent and hopeful.  Jonas wasn’t ready to deal with this type of curveball not five minutes after waking up from a twelve hour sleep, so he found himself shrugging before leading them through to the kitchen.

“Are you guys hungry?” he asked.  “I’m fucking  _ starving _ .  I don’t think I’ve eaten since, like, this time yesterday.”  He looked through the fridge, pulling out cold cuts that were left over from the various Christmas meals his mum had cooked.  Isak looked at Even questioningly.

“Yeah, I guess.  Do you want something, Even?”

“Stupid question, I’m always hungry.”  Even smiled brightly at Jonas.  “I normally have to remind this one here,” he gestured at Isak, “to actually eat.  He doesn’t seem to possess basic survival skills.  Do you find that?  As his friend?”

“I…” Jonas shrugged, pulling out bread.  No, he’d never noticed Isak not eating properly.  “I don’t know, man, I guess I’m not into monitoring his eating habits.”  He smiled, because he realised that he might have sounded a bit dismissive, and Even laughed while Isak rolled his eyes.

“I do eat.  I eat loads.”

“Then why are these hips so skinny,” Even growled playfully as he slipped his hands under Isak’s jumper.  Isak cried out with laughter and pushed them away, bringing them up to his shoulders.  Even leant in, ready for a kiss, and Jonas swallowed away the words he wanted to say as he tried not to watch them.

“Your hands are cold.  Anyway, you can talk.  You’re like a fucking drainpipe.”

Even laughed, before snatching the quick kiss he was after from his boyfriend.  Then he pulled away reluctantly in order to help Jonas make up some sandwiches.  Isak pouted without realising he was doing it; when he saw Jonas rolling his eyes at him he smiled apologetically.

“Drinks, Isak?  There’s cola in the fridge,” Jonas directed him.  Isak nodded, reaching past them to pull out three drinking glasses from the overhead cabinet, and Even nipped at the side of his neck before Isak wandered over to the other side of the kitchen.

“So, uh,” Isak said, voice deepening slightly as he tried to broach the reason he was here, “Is everything okay, Jonas?”  He poured some cola carefully into three glasses, trying not to let it fizz over the top.  Jonas glanced across to see Even staring at him, curiosity rather than concern on his face.  This was the first time the three of them had spent any length of time hanging out on their own and it felt more than a little awkward.  Even’s face, his confidence, his general presence was annoying him as much as it always did, but this time the only filter between them was Isak, who was like a lightening rod for Jonas’s resentment.

“I, yeah…” Jonas stalled, trying to work out what to say.  He glanced at Even, wondering if it was something the older boy should know.  As much as he wanted to be the one to help Isak through this, he truthfully had no idea how his friend would react and whether he’d be able to cope with the fallout from it.  Surely telling Even as well was the responsible thing?

And then there was another thought, a tiny, persistent thought at the back of his mind.  A nasty thought:  _ Maybe Even wouldn’t be able to cope with _ this. _Maybe it will lead to another episode._ __   A depressive episode, that would render him incapable of doing anything to comfort or reassure Isak.  Jonas hated that thought, because he didn’t want to believe that this… this  _ thing _ he felt for Isak was so easily able to turn him into a person he didn’t like very much.  But once he acknowledged the seed in his mind, the thought began to grow, to expand.  He couldn’t disentangle himself from it.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten again?”  Isak laughed.  “All those drugs are finally getting to you, man.  I told you they would.”

Even slid some sandwiches over to Jonas and watched as he pulled out some plates from the cupboard.  He started to look mildly embarrassed in the silence that followed, as though he’d read the room and decided his presence wasn’t necessary.  He raised an eyebrow at Jonas who studiously ignored him, turning away to talk to Isak instead.

“Just… let’s fucking eat, okay?  I can’t even think straight right now.”

They ate the sandwiches in relative silence and Jonas tried to run through the possible scenarios in his head for how this conversation could go.  The way he saw it, he had two options: make up a fake problem (easy enough: he could just say he still had feelings for Eva but she seemed to be with Chris now and it was getting him down.) Or he just tackle the Elias thing outright.  Surely that was the right thing to do?  The responsible thing?

After five minutes of nobody saying a word, Isak finally put his sandwich down and said, “Okay, seriously, just tell us.  Get it over with.”

It was an odd choice of expression and Jonas looked at him quizzically, trying to work something out.  Did Isak already know why he was here?  Is that why he’d brought Even along, for a sense of protection?  Jonas thought back to their phone call yesterday, about how he’d gone from talking about Elias to telling Isak he needed to talk to him face to face.  He looked at Isak properly for the first time and saw something in his best friend’s eyes that looked at once like fear and at the same time a silent plea. 

Jonas could understand that plea if Isak wanted him to stay silent.  But here he was, demanding Jonas to just ‘get it over with’.  What the hell did he want him to say?

“I… I’m not sure I should.  Not with...” He gestured to Even.  “I mean, no offence.  But it’s kind of personal.”

“See, I told you,” Even said to Isak.  “Look, I’m sorry, Jonas, I shouldn’t have come.  I told him it might be something private and that you-”

“He doesn’t mean personal for him,” Isak said, swallowing hard.  “It’s something personal for me.  And I want you to hear it.  You’re my boyfriend and I don’t have secrets from you.”

_ Fuck _ .  This was definitely not how Jonas had anticipated the conversation going.  Even looked at Isak, stooping his neck slightly to look him in the eyes, then his eyes went back at Jonas.  “Okay, so… what is it about?”

“It’s, uh… it might be something, it might be nothing.  I just, you know…?  I needed to check.” Jonas said feebly.

There was a long pause.  Even had obviously decided to take the stoic, silent approach, waiting for Isak or Jonas to speak.  Isak looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up but he finally muttered, “Did Elias tell you something?”

“Yeah.”  Jonas nodded.  “And… I mean, I just wanted to ask.  Because if it isn’t true, I thought you should know what he was saying.  And if it is true, I… I needed to check you were okay.”

Isak had previously looked resigned to admitting something; now he looked up at Jonas’s final sentence, confused.  “Okay?  Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“You mean… nothing happened with him?”

“Yes, something happened.”  Isak paused again, then looked at Even.  “I… I should have told you about Elias.  It was such a long time ago.  I was, like, fucking screwed up back then.  I was a mess.  And I did something with a guy I didn’t really know.  Jonas’s friend.  I didn’t think it was important and I didn’t think he’d bring it up to Jonas.  He said he wouldn’t.  But I guess these things always come out eventually.”  

Isak sucked in his breath, then blurted out, “I’m sorry, okay?  I’m sorry for letting you think I was… completely a virgin when we met.  I mean, I was a virgin, but I… I did stuff with Elias.  Not  _ that _ .  But.  You know.  Other stuff.”  He coughed awkwardly.  “It was easier not to tell you.  I promise it was just once, and it was so long before I met you.”

He looked mortified at having to say any of this out loud, but Jonas barely noticed.  He was tried to digest and understand the words coming from Isak’s mouth; as he looked at Even he could see that Isak’s boyfriend was attempting the same thing.  Finally, Even tilted Isak’s face up and kissed him softly on the lips before pulling back. “Isak, I don’t give a shit who you slept with before me.  You could have slept with a hundred fucking guys.  Or girls.  It doesn’t matter.  So long as you’re happy now, I’m happy now.”

Isak smiled reassuringly.  “I am happy.  I promise.  And I didn’t.  I didn’t sleep with a hundred guys. Or girls.  Just to clear that up. ”  He laughed awkwardly and Even smiled softly at him, reaching out to cover his hand with his own.

Jonas felt his face twist in confusion.  Was this… was this really happening?  He genuinely couldn’t wrap his head round it.  The way Elias had talked about Isak… the night Isak stayed up at the cabin, scared and alone... the panic attack Eva had seen him in the midst of… surely Isak hadn’t seen his encounter with Elias as consensual?  Had Jonas misunderstood everything?

“Is that everything?” Isak asked him.  Jonas shook his head.  No, that wasn’t  _ everything _ .

“I’m sorry, I don’t get it.”

“You don’t get what?”  Isak asked, before realisation dawned on him.  “Oh, fuck, man.  Look, I’m sorry… for you know… doing that with your friend.  He promised he wouldn’t tell you and I… God, I’m sorry, Jonas.  I was so stupid.  Please, I mean, it’s not… you’re not mad at me, are you?  You’re still friends with Elias?”

Jonas actually laughed at that, sharply and abruptly, and pulled himself to his feet.  He felt like he needed to get away from Isak, from the stuff he was saying that bore no resemblance to the version of events in Jonas’s head.  When he finally remembered Isak and Even were still in the room, he looked back to the table to see Isak sitting very still, looking down at his hands, and Even glaring accusingly.

“Hey,” he snapped, when he saw Jonas’s attention had fallen back on them again.  “You can’t fucking hold it against him for getting with your friend.  I mean, he was a consenting adult, wasn’t he?  What’s the actual problem?”  He held up his hands in confusion.  “Also, sorry, I don’t want to sound rude, if I’m misunderstanding something here, but why the fuck did you even bring this up?  Are you fucking trying to shame him or something?”

Jonas laughed again, genuinely unsure of the part he was playing in this apparent comedy of errors.  It was entirely the wrong thing to do:  Even was in front of him in a second, squaring up; he was a head taller than Jonas, and Jonas shook himself out of his confusion, trying to find the right words before he got himself knocked out. 

“I’m not mad at Isak.   _ Fuck, _ Isak, I’ve been so worried that Elias… that he forced you into something.  And you fucking apologising and acting like you’re the one who did something wrong… I wasn't expecting that, okay?”  He backed away from Even, who was reassessing the situation warily, and walked over to the table.  He crouched down next to Isak.  “Please, just look at me and tell me that you wanted it.”

Isak looked up from his lap, his wide eyes bearing into Jonas’s heated expression.  “Of course I wanted it.  I’m gay, Jonas.  And I was gay then, even if I didn’t want to admit it to anyone.”

“Yeah, but…” Jonas tried again, trying not to show his impatience.  “Just… just because you’re gay… that doesn’t mean you wanted Elias touching you.  Doing things to you.”  He lowered his voice, wishing he didn’t have to do this in front of Even.  “The way he spoke about you, to me, he… it sounded to me like you didn’t have much of a choice.”

Isak’s expression was one of sheer confusion.  He turned his head to look at Even, who was now standing behind him, ready to move Jonas away if needed, and then he turned back to Jonas.  Nothing on his face indicated he was lying.  “Of course I had a choice,” he answered simply.  Sensing that neither Even or Jonas were satisfied with that answer, he said quietly, “Look, I understand why you’re mad, Jonas.  And I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for being such a slut with your friend.  Please don’t make me feel even worse about it.”

He stood up, trying to pull Even by the arm, like he wanted to leave with him, but Even had frozen at the word  _ slut _ .  Jonas was aware of the blood rushing to his head, the only sound he could hear in the room until Even eventually asked, voice fractured, “Why did you call yourself that?”  He paused, taking a painful breath.  “Did he… did this guy call you that?”

Isak backed away from both of them now, shaking his head in confusion.  “Even.  Jonas.  Seriously, this is fucking insane.  And really fucking embarrassing.  It was one night, it was over a year ago and I don’t understand why you’re both trying to make it into something it wasn’t.  Elias didn’t force me, I was the one who…” He trailed off, swiping shaking fingers through his fringe, and turned completely away from them.

“Who what?” Even prompted him.  “Please, Isak, finish the sentence.”

“I asked for it,” Isak said.  “I wanted it.  Do you really want me to go into detail?” From behind, Jonas could see he was trying to wipe tears from his face.  “It’s not like you haven’t been with people before.  Either of you.  I know I was wrong to go with Jonas’s friend but… surely it’s not that big a deal, Jonas?”  

Isak looked over his shoulder pleadingly, and Jonas couldn’t stop himself from roaring with frustration; he paced away from Isak, hating the fear in his friend’s eyes at his reaction.  He took three deep breaths, trying to get a hold of himself.

“Fuck, Isak, are you just not listening to me?  I’m not upset about that... that _arsehole_  not being a friend anymore.  I’m fucking  _ terrified _ about what he did to you that night and why you seem to think that it was normal.”

“It  _ was _ normal.  There was nothing… not… not normal… about it.”

“So when you stayed up the night before, when you didn’t want to go back into the room, that was normal?” Jonas asked, his anger bubbling back up at Isak’s protestations.  Isak’s eyes widened at the question and he took a step back, shaking his head.  “And when Eva found you having a panic attack after he’d gone, was that fucking  _ normal _ ?”

“Please,” Isak whispered, but Jonas couldn’t listen to him, could only feel the anger inside him, penetrating every word he said.

“And when Elias told me that he’d have  _ fucked your mouth all night  _ if you hadn’t been, and I quote ‘a whiny little bitch’, are you fucking telling me that was normal too?”

“Jonas!” Even snapped, and Jonas blinked at him, realising that he was listening to every cruel word being said, that it wasn’t just Isak hearing it.  “That’s enough.  He’s got it.  You’ve made your point.”

“Isak, just… just say it.  Say that he forced you.  Say it so I can help you,” Jonas pleaded.  Isak looked at him, and then at Even for much longer.  Finally he shook his head.

“I honestly don’t know what you want from me.  He didn’t force me, he didn’t do anything I didn’t want.  And now it’s in the past, and that’s where it was meant to stay.”  He put on an affected smile, the dried tears on his cheeks ruining his attempts at composure.  “Anyway.  Thanks for the food.  We should probably go now.  We’ll let you get on with your day.”

Jonas stood there dumbly as they - or rather, Isak - prepared to leave.  He stayed silent as they headed for the door, Isak taking Even’s hand, his fingers red as he gripped tightly.

Even glanced back at Jonas, worried - no, terrified.  Isak, though, had clear eyes; the fixed smile was still on his lips as he said cheerfully, “See you at the party tomorrow, Jonas.”

Jonas walked over to the window and watched them leave; Isak slightly ahead of Even, walking so fast that even Even’s long legs struggled to keep up pace.  When they were finally out of sight, Jonas slumped down into a chair and replayed the last half hour in his head.

He couldn’t make sense of any of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Here is a chapter which, if I had my shit together, would have been better posted yesterday, as it's focused on a New Year's Eve party, but hey ho. Better late than never.
> 
> I would say there's a noticeable shift in Jonas's state of mind in this chapter, for the worse. Just to mentally prepare you. :-/
> 
> Warnings: This chapter contains explicit descriptions of a consensual sex act, as well as non-consensual voyeurism of said act.

The screams from party-goers rang like chorus bells in Jonas’s ears.  He heard each one separately and acutely and the sound was sweet and tuneful and something he wanted to be a part of.  Yet he could also hear them as a whole, nothing more than a dull sound that faded into the darkest corners of his brain.  He’d been flying high only minutes previously, but he’d since laced the cocaine with shots of tequila and now his body felt level.  Normal.  Everything was normal.

He was alone.  And that was normal.

He looked at the bodies surrounding him. Sweating, grinding, seducing, laughing bodies.  He had never felt so certain that he didn’t belong to anyone or anything.  He went to the toilet and snorted more white powder off of a girl’s hand; he pressed money into it when he’d finished and stumbled back to the party.  Now he felt something.  He danced, grinding against someone, with no idea who it was.  He blew a kiss in Eva’s direction when he saw her staring disapprovingly.  He tried talking to a girl in his year who was standing in a corner on her own.  He yelled over the music at her, trying to find out her name, but she walked away after he misheard her for the fourth time.

And the whole time, he watched Isak and Even dancing together in the corner of the room.  He fixated on the pale skin of Isak’s arms, wrapped tightly around Even’s waist.  He watched the sway of his body, the tightness of his jeans around his hips.  His blonde hair, thick and curly, that Even kept coming back to, running his fingers through it, leaning down to kiss it away from his face, as Isak rested his head against Even’s chest.   _It could have been you_ , he said to himself, or maybe out loud; it didn’t matter as nobody would hear him.   _It could be you._  

He swigged more tequila from a plastic cup.  The taste made him gag but he forced it down.   _Don’t look at them,_ he told himself.   _If you keep looking at them you’ll do something stupid._ He forced himself to look elsewhere, to pay attention to something other than Isak’s arms around Even’s waist.  But when he looked back, he realised they had taken the opportunity away from him anyway.  The moment he had looked away, they had disappeared from the room.  Even had taken Isak somewhere.  They were gone.

He shook his head, telling himself it was important he looked out for Isak.  Nobody else was doing it.  Even couldn’t do it.  Even was too sick to look after Isak.  Earlier in the evening, Jonas had caught him alone, when Isak was talking to Magnus: he’d grabbed his arm, pulled him close, tried to ask what had happened since they’d left his house yesterday.  But Even had pushed him back, shaking his head.  “We’re dealing with it, okay?  You need to stay out of it.”

Even was clearly delusional.  Isak was Jonas’s best friend, and therefore Jonas couldn’t ‘stay out of it’.  If Even couldn’t see that then he must be manic again.  There was no other explanation for it.

He tried to leave the room.  Penetrator Douchebag Fuckboy Chris was suddenly in his face, leaning in to yell at him, “I need to talk to you.”  So many arseholes kept telling Jonas what he needed to do and he was fucking _done_ with it.  He pushed him aside.  The only thing Jonas _needed_ to do was check Isak was safe.

And now he was heading to the basement, rubbing underneath his nose, ensuring there was no powder left.  He sniffed again, getting closer towards Eva’s room.  The door was about five inches ajar, and he looked through.  Isak had pushed Even up against the wall. His mouth was at his neck, at once pliant and needy.  

Jonas backed away, knowing this wasn't something he should be watching.  He was back halfway up the stairs when he heard Isak moan, and something made him stop, turn around and walk silently down to Eva’s bedroom.  They still had no idea anyone was out here.  He swung the door so it was open just a slit, only just wide enough for him to peer through; as he was doing it he realised how stupid he was being, that the door could so easily creak as it swung on its hinges.  But it remained silent, conspiring with his actions.  

Anyone in their right mind would tell him he shouldn’t be up here, watching them doing this.  Isak would be furious.  Maybe even scared.  But it was important he looked out for Isak.He was doing nothing wrong.  He was doing this for Isak.

Isak.  Isak, who was drunk, swaying on his feet slightly, his hands reaching for Even’s face, pulling him close to him for sweet, desperate kisses, as Even tried to slow him down.  “Baby, I just want you to talk to me, I don’t need - ”

He groaned as Isak sunk to his knees, reaching for the top button of his jeans.

“I just want to make you feel happy,” Isak murmured, so softly that Jonas had to strain his ears to hear.  “Please, let me do this.”  His hands finished their work, undoing Even’s jeans completely and pulling them down to his knees.  Jonas could see them in side profile; he could see Even’s hardness strain against the fabric of his boxers, could see Isak’s pretty mouth ghosting over the material before he pulled them down and took Even deep, too deep.

Jonas watched, the pupils of his eyes dilating with lust, as Isak spluttered slightly before reaching a more comfortable length.  Even was grappling with his conscience; he made one last feeble attempt to check Isak was okay, running his hands through his hair and trying to pull him away to look him in the eyes, but Isak responded by looking up seductively from under his his lashes, running his tongue down Even’s length, down to his heavy balls, before working his way back up and taking him even deeper a second time.  Even groaned louder, all resolve leaving him, and he held onto the back of Isak’s head, encouraging him to take more.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect.” Even muttered.  “I love you so much.” And he meant it.  Jonas could see it; could see the sheer bliss in his eyes, the security of ownership, the knowledge that Isak adored him.  Isak responded to his words, gripping Even’s thighs with his hands, moaning hotly, and Jonas felt himself reaching for his own hard cock, wondering if he should… if he should do this.  Be doing this.  Fuck.  This was so fucked up.  Even was close to coming, already; Isak's mouth must have been so good.  Jonas rubbed over the fabric to his jeans, trying not to give himself away by his hitched breath, as Even pulled Isak back, his cock falling out with Isak's saliva attached.  He reached down to pull him up, bringing their bodies together.  Isak held his arms up, ready for Even to strip him, and Even wasted no time.  They kissed frantically, moving towards the bed and Jonas reached for the top button of his jeans.

But before he could undo it, before he could process what was happening, a voice breathed hotly into his ear.  

“ _Peeping Tom.”_

He spun round to see Chris standing next to him.  The older boy looked at Jonas, one eyebrow raised, the perpetual smirk plastered on his handsome face, before he shoved Jonas silently out of the way.  When he peered into the room to see what he’d been watching, he looked back, and the grin had dropped.  

He closed the door the rest of the way without making a sound.  Then, under his breath, he said, “Outside, now.  I need to talk to you.”  When Jonas didn’t move, he said slightly louder, _“Now,_  Jonas.”

 _Fuck. This was bad_ , Jonas told himself as he followed Chris silently out of the house, into the frosty night air where even the drunkest of party-goers weren’t risking their chances.  Chris looked at him, shaking his head, and Jonas thought it again.   _T_ _his is very very bad._

“Look,” he began, “I wasn’t… I know what that looked like in there.  But... it wasn’t what it looked like.  I’m not… I’m not some kind of perve.  Please.  You have to believe me. I wasn’t-”

Chris rolled his eyes before holding his hand up to stop Jonas’s rambling protestations.  “Jonas, I get it, okay.  You were looking out for Isak, but you can’t… you can’t  _do_ that.  You can’t invade his privacy like that.”

Jonas blinked, unsure if he’d heard him correctly.  Maybe Chris was playing with him?  But no, Chris was serious, he saw that for once, his expression was completely transparent.  He was concerned.   _Concerned._

Chris got it, he actually  _got_ it.  Jonas smiled, nodding; he wanted to shake Chris’s fucking hand, he was so relieved.  So fucking grateful.  But Chris simply scowled at him.

“Are you fucking high?  Seriously?”

Jonas blinked.  Was he that obvious?  “A bit,” he admitted sheepishly.  “Just… just a bump of cocaine.  Nothing else.”

“Jesus.  Okay.  I don’t know if I should do this now, while you’re like this, but I’m beginning to wonder if there’s ever a time you’re _not_ off your face, so I’ll try to keep this as simple for you as possible.”  He sat down on a bench next to the back door and huffed decisively, cold breath misting in front of his mouth.  “I did something stupid the other day.  And I need to apologise, but I also need to… talk to you about it.”  He shook his head.  “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

“Not… not really.” Jonas answered.  He walked over with some trepidation, wondering if he should sit down.  Chris simply continued talking as Jonas eased himself into the seat.

“So.  When you came over to Eva’s the other day… I might have... I might have gotten a bit jealous.  Because, you know, here’s her ex boyfriend rocking up to the house, basically telling me to piss off-”

“I didn’t tell you to piss off.”

“Your face said it.  And I did, didn’t I?  Because I’m not _going out_ with Eva,” he said, highlighting the phase with quotation marks above his head, “So I wasn’t in a position to get all territorial.  But to be honest I wanted to fucking tell you she was my girl, even though she isn’t.”  He shook his head.  “Fuck, I really like her.  And that’s a real problem for someone like me.”

Jonas hadn’t expected this sort of outpouring from Chris; he opened his mouth to say something reassuring but Chris continued before he got the chance.  “I’m not looking for your pity.  I’m telling you all this for a reason.”  He sighed.  “Okay, here goes.  I wanted to hear what you guys were going to talk about because I had no idea what you were there for.  I thought maybe you had had a sort of pre-New Year revelation that you wanted her back, and I wanted to prepare myself for it.”

And gradually, Jonas began to realise why Chris was telling him this.  He confronted the possibility out loud: “You listened to our conversation?”

“I didn’t know you were going to be talking about… about Isak.  Once you started, I… I know I should have stopped.  But I didn’t.”

Jonas felt the familiar anger that had been pretty much his permanent state of being these last few days return to his body; he got up, paced away, trying to suppress it.  Chris was looking mortified and probably fully expectant of some sort of violence.  He looked up, eyes haunted.  “I would have walked away, Jonas.  I’m not - I’m not the type to get involved with stuff when it isn’t my place to.  I swear.  But you know that Isak and I spent time together earlier this year?  And stuff you were saying… it just made sense.  When I heard you talking about this guy _Elias_ , I realised who he was.”

“You know Elias?”  Jonas asked.  He hadn’t quite shaken off the urge to hurt Chris but his words did stop him short.  Elias had never mentioned Chris, even though he talked quite often about people at Nissen who he dealt to.  “And since when did you spend time with Isak?  What the fuck do you even mean by that?”

“Okay.  So… rewind to… February, maybe?  Some party at Ida Jacobsen’s house?  You were there, I think.  And Isak was there.  And I remembered thinking, _Who the fuck is this lame kid singing so loudly_ , but he was kind of funny with it so I suppose it stuck in my head.”  Chris paused.  “I hooked up with Ida and we went to her bedroom and Isak was in there with some older guy I’d never seen before.  I knew he didn’t go to Nissen, he didn’t have the look about him, you know?  I could tell immediately he was no good.”

Jonas swallowed painfully, realising who Chris was talking about.  “Elias.”

Chris nodded.  “He was… Isak was freaking out about something.  Elias had him against the wall and was… I thought… well, maybe more like hoped, he was trying to calm him down, but he was in his personal space and Isak obviously didn’t want him there.  Ida started to say something but I stopped her, got her to leave.  They hadn’t seen us yet.  I didn’t want to just burst in and make things worse for Isak.  Like, if this guy was legitimately trying to calm him down and it just _looked_ bad from where I was standing, I thought how embarrassing it would be for everyone, you know?”  

He stopped, and Jonas wondered if the story was over.  Perhaps Chris had simply walked away and left Elias to do whatever he was going to do to Isak.  The thought made Jonas's blood run cold.  But after a time, Chris started talking again.  “I heard him saying things to Isak.  Really bad, fucked up things.  So I walked in.  I couldn’t listen to it anymore.”

Chris paused, the memory still troubling him, and Jonas waited for him to start up again.  He realised that this was genuinely difficult for Chris to relay to him, that it might take some time.  Eventually, the older boy continued. “The guy looked embarrassed and pulled away from Isak.  He asked if we knew each other and I just stared at him.  He left when he realised he wasn’t going to get a response from me.”

“And Isak?”

“Isak...." Chris smiled grimly at the sound of Isak's name.  "Isak looked at me like he had been the one who had been caught.  He was… I guess... ashamed is the word.  And then he… he started to walk away and I tried to stop him, to ask him what was going on, and he freaked out completely.  Started having a panic attack.  You know, like Eva described?  I knew it straight away because my older sister gets them.  I got him to take three deep breaths, and then I asked him to count how many blue things he could see in the room.  It sounds stupid but that always works for her: counting something, making her look around at the room.  So I counted them with Isak and he eventually got it under control.  Just barely.”  

Again Chris paused, and Jonas saw he was rubbing his face.  He could have been crying, or tired, or anything between.  It was too dark for Jonas to tell for certain.  “He was still scared afterwards, blaming himself, saying he was sorry for wasting my time.”  Chris shook his head.  “I kept telling him he hadn't, that it wasn’t his fault, but I don’t think he really heard me.”

Jonas swallowed away something that tasted like nausea.  He found himself asking the question he was most frightened to hear the answer to.  “You said he was saying stuff.  Elias.  Um… I need… I need to know what he was saying?”

Chris looked like he was expecting this.  He hunched over slightly, taking a short, decisive breath.  “He was talking about… about Isak _asking for it._ He called him “his little slut”.  I saw him press up against him, and he said ‘ _Look what you’ve done, you’ve got me hard’_.  But it wasn’t… it wasn’t like, when you’re talking sexy to someone, you know?  It was like he was accusing him, and Isak was just standing there, accepting it.  He even...”

"What?"

"He even apologised to Elias.  For making him hard," Chris said, before swearing under his breath, clearly still affected by what he had seen that night.

Jonas thought about.  He thought about the words Isak had used yesterday. I _’m sorry for being such a slut with your friend_.   _I asked for it.  I wanted it._ It had sounded so wrong, so vile, coming from someone so innocent.  And now he got it.  Elias had planted those words in Isak's mind over time.

Jonas sat down next to Chris, nothing in his body now other than grief, as his head came down to rest in his hands.  He’d missed every single sign.

Time came to a standstill.  They sat side-by-side, contemplating this awful, shared knowledge.  But Chris wasn’t done talking, and Jonas had no choice but to continue listening.

“I tried to, you know, make a point of looking out for him after that.  I knew you and him were best friends and I wondered if maybe I should tell you, but when I mentioned it he was like this fucking… frightened animal.  And he was that girl at the time… what was her name?  Fuck, I can’t even remember.  But he never talked about her.  He seemed embarrassed to even bring her up.  So I figured I couldn’t tell her.  I started to give him lifts home and stuff because… because I just felt responsible for him in a way.  He seemed so fucking lost.  We didn’t really talk but he seemed okay around me.  I wouldn't say relaxed, like I'd see him with you, but like... more able to be tense, to be weird, quiet.  You know?  And then all that shit happened with the Yakuzas and that was… that was another fucking mess with William and I got distracted by all that.  And by that point he was starting to act more normally around me, like he didn’t need me so much anymore.”  

“So you stopped seeing him?”

Chris shrugged.  “I mean, we barely talk now.  I think I remind him of this shitty time in his life.  I get it.”  He let out an ugly, cynical laugh. “It just made so much sense, what you were talking about with Eva.  That’s why I listened.  I know I shouldn’t have done it, but this… this sweet kid, that I had this weird relationship with - totally non-sexual, by the way - once upon a fucking time, I suppose I wanted to know he was okay.  And now I know things were worse for him than I’d thought possible.”  He looked at Jonas placidly, all barriers down.  For once he allowed himself to be seen as completely vulnerable.  “Are you going to punch me?  You can if you want.”

“I’m not going to punch you,” Jonas said simply.  He was still trying to process this new information, to place it with what he already knew about Isak.  Mostly he was numb that he hadn’t seen _any_ of this.  He hadn’t realised what Isak was going through.  Some other guy -  a fuckboy who even called himself a fuckboy as a badge of honour - had done what Jonas should have been doing.  Helping Isak through the most difficult months of his life.

“I just don’t know how to help him,” Jonas admitted after another bout of silence.  He felt his voice crack and then tears followed.  He didn’t even give a shit if Chris realised.  “I don’t know what I’m meant to do.”

“Do you need to do anything?  Like, honestly?  He’s got a boyfriend.  He seems to be happy.  He looks really fucking good these days.”  And there was the Chris that Jonas was used to, the cockiness creeping into his voice as he smirked in appreciation of the emergence of Isak’s hotness.  “Seriously, why not just leave it?  Or, I don’t know, not _leave_ it, but tell him you’re always ready to listen, tell him he can talk to you if he needs to.  And just wait.  Maybe he’ll come to you about it one day, or maybe he’ll repress it, but at least he knows you’re there.  Isn’t that better than forcing it?”

“And what if he goes to Even instead to talk about it?” Jonas asked.  Chris looked at him strangely and Jonas realised that one of those buried thoughts, the ones that made him sound like a jealous, possessive weirdo, had just come out of his mouth.

“Well, who cares?  So long as he talks to someone who cares about him, what’s the problem?”

Jonas was going to answer, to argue, even though he knew he had no case to argue.  At that moment, however, a throng of people came bursting out of the back door of Eva’s house, carrying bottles and glasses, voices raised in anticipation.  He checked his watch.  Two minutes to midnight.

Chris jumped up, Jonas following him, and before he walked away he said, “Are you going to tell Eva I was listening?”  Jonas shrugged, then shook his head.

“She’s heard enough.  I’ve already made her feel like shit about this, I don’t want her feeling even more guilty.”

Chris nodded, went to shake his hand, then pulled away before Jonas had a chance to grip it.  He grinned, walking away, and Jonas watched as he fixed his gaze on Eva and swaggered up to her, a handsome, charming smile on his face.

He looked again at the crowd, saw Isak and Even standing in the thick of it, still talking intimately like there was nobody else in the world.  He saw Magnus with Vilde, he saw Mahdi with some pretty girl he’d never seen before.  The countdown from sixty started; people were yelling _Fuck 2016_ while they laughed and swigged alcohol.  Jonas stood on his own trying to feel a part of it, but it was no use. As the countdown reached ten, he started to walk away.  He heard the loud, synchronised voices ringing in his ears… _Eight… Seven… Six…_

At _One_ he sat down on the grass, out of sight of the party, and laid on his back.  He looked up at the night sky and screamed without words as the hopeful cheers for 2017 rang out loud, a whole world away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! I'll be back to work from tomorrow so updates will most likely not be daily from here on in, though I will try to keep them as regular as possible.
> 
> This is a slightly shorter, slightly less emotionally ridiculous... sorry, less emotionally *harrowing* chapter. But hopefully it's still interesting? Feedback is love, as always. <3

His absence from the party didn’t go unnoticed.  By the time he was home there were a litany of messages on his phone - Magnus, Mahdi, Eva, even fucking Vilde had noticed his early exit.  The only one he was interested in, however, was the one from Isak.  His best friend had been the first to text him.  He smiled at that.  He sometimes forgot how much Isak actually cared about him.

_Are you ok?  We’re looking for you. Just text me or phone. Happy new year man. Xx_

Something small and petty in him almost left it unanswered. He quite liked the idea of Isak worrying about him, maybe even leaving the party early because he wasn’t enjoying it anymore.  But the urge to reply, to maintain contact with him, overrode the more childish whim, so he texted back:   _I’m fine. Just really wasn’t feeling it._

He paused, then began to type again.

_I’m sorry about that shit the other day.  I just want you to know that I love you bro.  I’m here for you if you do ever want to talk about it.  But I get it if you don’t.  Happy new year to you too. xx_

He debated sending it.  If he sent it, he would have to draw a line under the Elias thing.  It wasn’t good for his head, continuing to obsess about this, and he couldn’t tell Isak one thing, only to keep bringing it up regardless.  Chris was right; Isak could talk to him in his own time, if he even needed to talk at all.  Or he could talk to Even.  He _could_ talk to Even.

He put his phone down next to him, the text still unsent.  His mind felt sluggish and irritable.  Why was he sitting here trying to convince himself he was a good person when he knew how fake and pointless it all was? When he knew he’d fuck over Even in a heartbeat if it meant being the most important thing in Isak’s life again?

He deleted the message and started again.   _I don’t know what to say to you tbh.  I’m worried about you and I know you might not want to talk about this in front of Even in case he has another episode because of you.  But it’s not good for you to keep this all inside your head.  I spoke to Chris.  He told me how messed up you were last year and I’m sorry for not realising at the time. You should have told me. I’m always here if you want to talk.  I love you bro. x_

Without debating it this time, he hit send.  He knew how shitty the message was, that each point in it was intended to hurt Isak in a different way.  It was so fucking easy to hurt Isak; Jonas had found that out early in their friendship and he’d always walked a fine line between doing it for fun, as a joke, and doing it when Isak didn’t know what was best for himself, ever since.

He hardened his resolve when guilt began to set in.  If Even wasn’t going to do anything to push Isak out of the mindset he’d found himself in - and the _display_ Jonas had witnessed at the party seemed to prove pretty solidly that Even was only interested in one thing - then Jonas needed to use tactics like this more often.  He was doing this because he had Isak’s best interests at heart, and if he was the only one who understood that, if that meant he had to be a horrible, garbage dump of a person in order to get through to Isak… _fine_.  He'd live with that.  

He was confident that, in time, Isak would recognise Jonas was only doing it because he cared so much about him.

 

***

 

They returned to school two days later.  Isak hadn’t responded to his text during that time, and Jonas wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not.  If he was still pretending that everything was okay, Jonas would have expected a text asking what the hell he was going on about, that he was just _fine_ , thanks.  There was also a nagging doubt in the back of his mind that maybe Isak had immediately recognised what Jonas was trying to do and was now angry with him.  But mostly, Jonas hoped that Isak genuinely didn’t know how to answer, that he was thinking about it and was working up the courage to talk to him.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus said as Jonas approached him.  He and Mahdi were positioned at the top of the steps as they hung around in the grounds outside the school building, “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”  

Jonas rolled his eyes.  “You can talk.  Fucking _family commitments_ over the Christmas holidays every single fucking day.  Is that code for ‘banging Vilde’?”

Magnus laughed, raising an eyebrow, as Mahdi cackled with amusement next to him.  “Fuck, Jonas, I am so in love with her.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.  She is… she’s so sweet and innocent.  And funny!  Really fucking funny.  But at the same time she’s a fucking nympho.  She’s dream girl material.”

“Oh, hi, Vilde,” Jonas said, looking over Magnus’s shoulder.  Magnus bolted to turn round, cheeks inflamed, and groaned when he saw Jonas was messing with him.  Mahdi doubled over with laughter.

“Fuck you, bro!  Not fucking cool!”  He pretended to push Jonas away, and Jonas played along, stumbling down a couple of steps.

“But seriously,” Mahdi said, when he’d managed to recover from his laughing jag.  “Where did you go on New Year?  You were there one minute and the next you’d gone.”

“I don’t know, man,” Jonas said, shrugging.  “I just wasn’t feeling it.”

“Fuck 2016, right?”

“Fuck 2016,”  he agreed, feeling his body start to relax.  Things always seemed so much easier when he was in the structure of school, with friends like Magnus and Mahdi who had no expectations of him.  He could be a better person here.  He knew the school, knew the people that came here.  He wasn’t at particularly prestigious heights within the hierarchy but he knew he was seen as intelligent and quirky and that people generally liked him.  It really was all so easy.  So why did he keep losing himself recently?

“Did you see that total fucking babe I got with?” Mahdi asked him.  Jonas nodded.

“Yeah, who was she?  She doesn’t go to Nissen?”

“No.  I didn’t even get her name.  She was so fucking horny.  Seriously man, you missed out.  Everyone wanted to fuck at that party.  I could have hooked you up with her friend.  I was talking about you, even pointed you out, and then you were gone.”

Jonas shrugged again.  “I told you, I wasn’t feeling it.”

“Look, it’s _Evak_!” Magnus said brightly, pointing out Isak and Even as they walked over, hand in hand.  Jonas smiled hopefully, trying to catch Isak’s eye; he felt some semblance of relief when Isak nodded and smiled, returning the look.  He wasn’t angry.  Jonas could always tell when his best friend was angry.  Isak’s face was almost incapable of hiding whatever current emotion he was feeling, particularly when the emotion was a strong one.  Today he mostly looked placid, if slightly anxious about something, but that tended to be his default mood on the first day back after a school break.

They exchanged handshakes, Magnus going in for a hug with an amused Even.  Once again, the topic returned to the party.  Isak was questioning Mahdi on his hook-up, and Magnus was rhapsodizing about his kiss at midnight with Vilde.  Jonas fell silent, not feeling a part of this.  Isak must have noticed, because he tried to include him in the conversation.

“Did you see her, Jonas?  Mahdi’s girl?  She looked like a model.”

Jonas shrugged as Mahdi’s grin lit up his face; he started to boast about his pulling technique as Magnus, emboldened by his recent success with Vilde, tried to tell him that actually, the best way to pull a girl was to be honest with her, that any idiot knew that.  Isak tried again.

“Did you see anyone you liked there, Jonas?”

 Jonas answered that with a shrug as well.  Even, who had been more an observer of the conversation than a participant, glared at him.  Nobody noticed but Jonas.  When Jonas stared back at him, stony-faced, Even looked away and tilted Isak’s chin towards him to get his attention.  “I’ve gotta go now.  Need to find my Film Studies partner.  I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Okay,” Isak said, going up on tip-toes for a kiss.  “See you at lunch.”

They all watched him leave, apart from Jonas who watched Isak.  When Even was inside the building, Magnus turned back to the group and started a new conversation.  “So, Isak, what do you think mine and Vilde’s relationship name should be?  Vilnus? Or Magde?”

 

***

 

The first few lessons flew by in a whirl of new topics and new assignments.  Jonas’s teachers all seemed more on edge than ever; this usually happened after the Christmas break so he was expecting it.  They were now at the business end of the year, where everything counted, and teachers and students alike tended to lose it between now and the spring.  He lost himself in the work and realised his mind had been crying out for this kind of stimulation.  He felt better than he had in weeks.

But by lunchtime he was no longer enjoying himself.  He felt frazzled and exhausted.  He patted his pockets, realising he had no supply of weed to take the edge off.  He wandered around trying to find a third year boy called Thomas who sold low grade stuff at high grade prices but he couldn’t see him in any of his usual haunts.   Pissed off, he headed to the canteen instead.  Isak was in there already, sat on his own, his head in his arms.  He had no food in front of him.  Jonas bought two sandwiches and brought them over, placing one in front of him.

“Hello,” he said.  Isak peered at the sandwich, then up at Jonas.

“Hi.”

“Your lessons were tough too?”

Isak nodded.  “I fucking _hate_ chemistry.  Remind me why I took it?”

Jonas shrugged, opening up his sandwich packet.  “I have no idea.  You’re going to be a house husband so it doesn’t even matter.”

Isak rolled his eyes.  “Very funny.”  He looked down at the sandwich again.  “Um, thanks.”

“Peace offering.”

“For what?”

“That message.  You didn’t reply so I assumed… well, I’m sorry if it came out wrong.”

“No.”  Isak scrunched up his brow, pretending he wasn’t bothered.  “No, it wasn’t… it was fine.  But I don’t know how… I mean, I get that you spoke to Chris and maybe he made things sound worse than they were, but I’m fine.  I just didn’t want you worrying about me.”

“How can I not?” Jonas asked.  “If you won’t even talk to me?”

Isak looked at him, his face pained; for a moment Jonas thought he was going to say something, but at the last second he looked down and remembered the sandwich in front of him.  Relieved to find a distraction, he opened it like it was the only thing he could concentrate on.  Jonas opened his mouth to try again, but Magnus, Mahdi and Vilde came over at that point, trays loaded up with food, chatting loudly about their first lessons, and all Jonas could do was watch Isak pick miserably at his sandwich.  His shoulders remained hunched and tense until Even came and slid onto the bench next to him.  Jonas noticed an immediate lightening in Isak’s demeanour.  He frowned and looked away.

“Isn’t this so cool?” Vilde asked.  They all looked at her.  “Sitting here in couples, like proper second years,” she stopped, blushing at Even, “And third years. Eating…chatting… Like we’ve finally arrived, socially.”

“I’m not sat here in a couple,” Mahdi pointed out.  “Neither is Jonas.”

“No, but…” Vilde tried again.  “You could be.  Perhaps if Eva and Jonas got together again?  And Mahdi, you’re so handsome and exotic looking.  You could easily meet a nice girl.  One that goes to Nissen, though,” she added pointedly.

“Exotic looking?” Mahdi muttered at Magnus.  “Is your girl being vaguely racist towards me?”

Magnus smiled at Vilde fondly, taking her hand and kissing it.  “No.  She’s right.  She’s always right.”  He looked back at Mahdi.  “Well, apart from the handsome bit.”

“I just think it’s nice.  It’s what second years should be doing.  Finding their place in the school.  Establishing traditions.  This is the time when it all really counts.  It’s fantastically exciting when you think about it.”

“That’s nice, Vilde,” Isak said.  “If a little bit too much pressure.”  He picked at his sandwich again and, when he saw Even watching him pointedly, shoved the whole thing into his mouth and chewed with it open, deliberately trying to gross Even out.  Even laughed and kissed the crook of his neck, and Vilde beamed with delight as she watched them.

“Perhaps we could go to a gay club soon?  Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“I’d love to go to a gay club,” Magnus said enthusiastically.  Mahdi rolled his eyes and mock whispered,  “That’s because you’re gay.”

“Honorary gay, thank you very much."

“Even, do you like gay clubs?” Vilde asked.  Even raised his eyebrows at her, smiled mysteriously, and finally replied, “Sure.  Great music.”

“Yes! See, you get it,” Magnus said, reaching over for a high five.  Even returned it with a grin as Isak smiled nervously at Even.  

“A gay club?”

“Don’t worry.  I’d look after you.  I'll tell all those daddies looking for cute little twinks that this one is taken.”

"I have no idea what you mean," Isak said, his face very clearly showing that he wasn't going to bite.  “Anyway, I suppose Eskild would be pleased.”

“Isn’t that a bit stereotypical, Isak?  I mean, just because Eskild is gay, you think all gay guys are into gay clubbing?” Even asked, his tone playful.   He leaned in for a kiss and Isak rolled his eyes, pushing Even’s face away with his hand.

“Dick.”

“So we should go?” Vilde asked delightedly.  Even nodded, Isak shrugged, in a _Yes, okay, I’ll let you persuade me_ kind of way, and Magnus answered, “Yes!” before leaning in for a kiss with Vilde.

Jonas finished his sandwich and gulped down a drink before standing up.  His head felt even more fuzzy, despite the replenishment of food.  “I need to take a piss.  See you guys later,” he said.  Isak waved at him but the others barely noticed him leaving; they had returned to talking about the New Year’s party and Jonas was beginning to take it a bit personally.  He couldn’t remember the last time a party had been discussed afterwards in such excessive detail.

He went to the boys’ toilets and took a long piss, hoping that the headache would pass.  After washing his hands he rooted around in his backpack for some unlabelled painkillers that usually made afternoon lessons bearable.  As he put his head under the tap to swallow water, he looked into the mirror to see Even coming in behind him.  He straightened up, the pills sinking down his throat and settling in his stomach, and turned to face the older boy.

“Okay?” he asked.  Even looked at him, assessing him, then smiled.  It was enough to unnerve Jonas, which he guessed was the tactic Even was going for.

“I’m fine.  You?”

“Super.  Just super.”

“Super,” Even replied, his smile widening, but the warmth, already lacking to start with, somehow decreased further.  “I figured we should talk.”

For a moment, Jonas wondered if Isak had shared that text with Even, or whether Even had just gone behind Isak’s back to read it anyway.  He had to play this carefully.  “I wanted to talk at the party.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t the time.  Look, I’m sorry if I was a bit… snappy with you.  But surely you can understand that if Isak saw us, standing there at the party having a serious conversation, when you and I have nothing to talk about but Isak… he would have realised what we were discussing?”

Jonas shrugged.  “Maybe that would be a good thing.  Isak needs to confront what happened with Elias.  This isn’t healthy, what he’s doing.”

“And what did happen with Elias?”

“You heard him.  He thinks they did stuff.  A blow job, I guess.”

“And you think that maybe he didn’t want it?  That Elias forced him?”

“I _know_ Elias forced him.”  Jonas swallowed, the same panic and anger returning to him now he was discussing this out loud, and Even’s face shifted, some of his coldness towards Jonas dissipating.

“How? Tell me what you know.”

“You haven’t met Elias.  You don’t know what he was like with Isak.  Isak didn’t like him, and I thought that was just because…” he paused, embarrassed. “I thought it was because he was jealous that I had another friend.  But it was more serious than that.  A lot more serious.  Isak would never have instigated it, honestly, he barely wanted to be in the same room as Elias whenever I was with them.  And Elias wouldn’t have treated him respectfully or cared about hurting him, going too fast.  He would have just done it.”  

He thought about all the times Elias had boasted about going with girls, the way he’d talked about fucking them.  Jonas had thought he was just exaggerating, that when he talked about being rough, it was simply to demonstrate his sexual maturity.  Now he thought about Isak, being told he was a slut, being made to feel bad for turning Elias on.  He allowed himself a small shudder as Even watched him closely.

“I spoke to Eva about the time in the cabin.  She said that Isak had a panic attack after Elias had gone.  And I spoke to a guy called Chris at the New Year’s party.  He’d seen Elias and Isak together, at another party, months after it happened.  He said that Elias was talking to Isak, accusing him of being a slut… and that Isak was terrified of him.”  He went to pick up his bag, wanting this conversation to be over, but Even put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from moving.  “Look, you can believe that it was fine, that Isak was into it, if that’s easier for you, Even.”

“Hey,” Even said, his tone hardening into flint.  “Don’t make out that I’m ignoring this, okay?  I’m not.  But I have to respect my boyfriend and his wishes, and at the moment it’s pretty clear that he _doesn’t_ want to talk about what happened.”

“So you just wait, until the day that… I don’t know, you say something when you’re banging him.. You tell him he’s a slut because, you know, dirty talk is fun, right?  And then he breaks down and everything becomes ten times worse because you didn’t deal with it _when you had the fucking chance_?”

“Wow.” Even said, raising his eyebrows.  “You don’t hold back, do you?”

“He’s my best friend, Even.  I would do _anything_ for him.”

“And you think I wouldn’t?”

“I think you’re too passive to do anything meaningful.  I think that you don’t understand what anger really feels like, that you’re just floating around ignoring what’s right in front of your face.  I think that-”

Even cut him off with a loud, angry laugh, and he gripped Jonas’s arm.  Jonas tried to shake him off but the grip tightened.  “You think that, do you?  You think that I’m so pilled up that I can’t show emotion, can’t defend my boy, can’t look out for him properly?”  

Jonas smirked bitterly.   _Y_ _es, that’s exactly what I think._

Even leant in close to him, his mouth inches from Jonas’s face, and he held up a finger to indicate that Jonas needed to listen.  When he spoke, it was slow, each word a bullet.  

“You want to know the truth?  If I let myself become angry, as angry as I’m capable of?  I would probably _kill_ this Elias.  They would have to pull me away from his broken, bloody body, and I would still try to get back to hurt him again.”  He widened his eyes, and Jonas stepped back, the grip on his arm preventing him from going too far. The intensity of Even’s anger crept into the gut of his stomach and twisted into fear. 

“You say you’d do anything for Isak?  So would I.  I would pull my life apart.  You understand?” Even continued.  “And it’s not because of my bipolar, it wouldn’t be part of some _manic_ episode.  It would be because I genuinely believe this guy should die for what he’s done to Isak, to the sweetest kid in the world, to the one person you do _not_ fucking hurt. Ever.”

Even took a breath, then smiled, as though he’d been discussing the weather.  He dropped his grip and stepped back.  “So you see, Jonas,” he said, turning round to the taps and twisting one until warm water poured out,  “It’s better for everyone if we just wait, and try to help Isak when he’s ready. Instead of doing something stupid.”  He pumped soap onto his hands and rubbed them them together under the stream of water.  Jonas stared at him dumbly.

When Even had finished washing, he walked over to the towel dispenser and took two, drying himself off fastidiously.  Then he saluted at Jonas.  “See you around, _best friend_.”

Jonas stayed in the toilets, rooted to the spot until the bell went.  He shook with anger, with fear, with something sick and resentful.  Even’s words, his grip on Jonas, his tone, his facial expressions… he’d wanted to make Jonas feel impotent, weak.  No, not just wanted to.  He _had_.  He had made Jonas feel all of those things.  

Because Jonas knew that in those words, in those threats, the truth was absolute.  Undeniable.  Even hadn’t been lying, not one word of it.

He gripped the side of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror.  His face was sunken and pale and as he stared, he realised he barely recognised himself.  It didn’t matter, though.  Not anymore.  Not now he’d finally realised what he needed to do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post today as I genuinely didn't think I'd get anything finished, but then I remembered this which I actually wrote before I even started the fic properly and which I've been waiting to fit in somewhere, and now feels like the appropriate place.
> 
> This chapter is a shift in tone from the rest of the fic in that it is completely set in the past... so it's kind of a flashback but written to seem present. It would basically work as a standalone fic, but as it is very much in this fic's universe, and is still in Jonas's POV, it works as a chapter too.
> 
> Warnings for violence, allusions to Anti-Semitism and just general unpleasantness. In fact in many ways this is the angstiest part of the story yet. (And probably should warn for no Even? Becuase Isak hasn't met him yet. Booo.)
> 
> Another quick note: I don't actually know WHEN in the year the episode with the Yakuza fight took place, like, whether it was meant to be spring or summer? I would have assumed summer but then Vilde is rocking a huge puffa jacket so who the hell knows. Anyway, I decided on spring.

**Spring 2016**

 Jonas was acutely aware of every single bone and muscle in his body, each one united in protracted, traumatised agony, as he staggered the distance to Isak’s house that evening.  It was a shorter walk than his own and he needed to collapse somewhere safe.  His head swung with a liquid-like quality that felt like loose blood sloshing in between his ears.  He was a mess.

He prayed that Isak's mum wouldn’t open the door, because she would most likely scream blue murder in his face if she saw he was injured and attempting to enter the house, and he didn’t think his head could take it.  At the same time, he couldn’t bring his arms down to his pockets and then back up to his chest in order to text or phone, so he stood in frightened anticipation, ringing the doorbell once.  It was an almost insurmountable challenge to hold his hand up for any length of time but he somehow managed it, holding himself against the door frame in an attempt to stay upright.

He smiled weakly as Isak opened the door.  Isak smiled back, starting to ask what Jonas was doing here, when Jonas stumbled forward, leaning painfully against his friend’s chest.  They hadn’t touched his face ( _Stupid ugly Jew face is busted enough_ ) so Isak didn’t realise anything was wrong until he felt Jonas’s broken body in his arms, saw the blood matted in his hair.

“Okay,” he said softly, gripping Jonas under the arms.  “It’s okay.”  It sounded like he was trying to reassure himself even more than he was trying to reassure Jonas.

Skinny little Isak somehow managed to drag Jonas’s deadweight of a body into his bedroom and once there he eased him awkwardly onto the bed.  He watched, face pale, as Jonas fell back so his body was flat against the sheets.  “Gonna get blood on your pillow,” he said apologetically.  Isak shook his head.   _Doesn’t matter._  “Fuck.  I feel like death.”

“What happened?”

He’d hoped the pain would ease in this position, but he wasn’t sure lying down was any better than sitting or standing up.  It hurt to talk so he ignored the question and simply laid there for a time, breathing in and out.  Isak came to sit down next to him, his eyes wide as he searched for a clue.

“Are you… are you going to pass out?  Should I call an ambulance?”

“No!” Jonas said, too quickly.  His ribs screamed and he coughed painfully.  “No, it’s fine.  Just give me a minute.”  He huffed out a breath.  “Do you have any painkillers?"

“I don’t know.  I think dad took threw away the stronger ones the last time he was here.  Hang on.”

Isak disappeared and Jonas sunk further into the pain, feeling it extend to the tips of his fingers, the clenching of his teeth.  He _needed_ to numb his body.  It wasn’t an option.  It was basic survival at this point.  So when Isak came back, sheepishly holding a pack of cheap supermarket ibuprofen, he pushed his hand away, though it was painful to do so, and said, “Call Elias.”

“Elias?”

“He’ll have something stronger.  Call him and tell him what’s wrong with me, tell him to come over.  Please, Isak?”

Isak paused, then persisted in his first line of questioning.  “Just tell me what happened, though.  Are you sure I shouldn’t call the ambulance?  Your family?”

“I was jumped, okay?  I’m not having my family freaking out about this.  Fucking _call_ Elias.  My phone’s in my pocket.”

Isak moved slowly towards him, reaching over carefully to pat down his pockets until he found the phone.  He pressed Jonas’s thumb to the home button and then wandered out of the room.  Jonas heard fragments of a conversation from the hall as he drifted in and out of the waves of pain: the bad waves and the worse ones.

Isak came back in, told him Elias was coming, and Jonas grunted to indicate he’d heard.  Isak tried talking to him again, his worried face hovering over the bedside, trying to get him to stay responsive, but Jonas wanted very much to sleep, if it meant a temporary reprieve from his aching bones, and he drifted off as Isak waited with him.

When he came to, his hed felt groggy and he continued to fade in and out of consciousness.  Isak’s bedroom window was open, the room was on the ground floor of the house, and he could hear voices drift in from outside.  Isak, frantic and worried, Elias’s slow drawl.  Their voices blurred, sometimes clear, sometimes garbled.  “Just give them to me,” Isak seemed to be saying, and he heard Elias laugh, his voice too low to hear properly.  There was a wet, smacking sound ( _that blood in his head again)_ , Isak gasping… Jonas was fucking delirious with pain.  

He waited and slept and then Isak was beside him, a glass of water in his hand, pills clutched in another.  “You have to sit up,” he told him.  He looked even paler.  Jonas would have been concerned, if he was able to focus on anything for longer than a second or two.  “Jonas, please.”

He heaved himself up against the headboard, wanting to tear himself apart if only to stop the waves.  Isak’s hand shook as he pressed the pills, three of them, one by one into his mouth, urging him to follow each one with a gulp of water.

“He said they were strong, but that they shouldn’t mess with your concussion.  If you have it.”

“Good old Elias,” Jonas said.  Isak glanced away, blinking, but his gaze didn’t stray from Jonas for too long.

“What can I do?”

“Just let me sleep.”

 

***

 

He woke up feeling passable.  There was still some pain but it had faded into a dull persistent ache rather than the _fat man sitting on your chest and bouncing_ vibe his body had been rocking earlier.

His mouth felt dry and he fumbled about, finding water on the bedside table next to him.   As he sat up tentatively to take a sip, he saw Isak curled up on some pillows next to the bed, a blanket drawn over him.  His blonde hair was a halo against the pillow, his pretty face even softer in sleep.  Jonas coughed painfully and Isak immediately stirred, confusion taking hold of him as he came to, looking around to establish where he was.  Within seconds his eyes darted upwards to find Jonas and he sighed, relieved, when he saw him sitting up and focusing.

“Hello,” he said.  He smiled slightly.  “You look… slightly better.”

“I still feel like shit,” Jonas said, “But slightly more fluid shit.”

“Like diarrhea?”

“Awesome analogy.”  He took a breath, testing his ribs.  That was a whole load of _nope_.  “What time is it?”

Isak reached over and checked his phone.  “Almost five in the morning.”

Jonas groaned.  “Shit, my parents are going to freak.”

“No, I texted them from your phone.  They think you had a late study session and crashed here.”   He looked up at Jonas again.  “Are you hungry?”

Jonas thought about this and shook his head.  “No, just thirsty.  And I need more of those painkillers.”  Isak blinked at this, like he wasn’t sure what Jonas was talking about.  “I’m not going mad, am I?  The painkillers you gave me from Elias?”

“No, sorry… I know which ones.  But… he didn’t give me that many.  They were expensive.  So maybe if you can pace them slightly?  I gave you three, you shouldn’t need any for the next few hours.”

“What the fuck, Isak?  He knows I’m good to pay him back.  Just fucking keep me doped up, it’s the only way I’m going to get through this.”  He finished the glass of water and waited expectantly.  Isak reached up to grab the glass from his hands.  He untangled himself from the mess of pillows and blankets and went to fetch more water, then handed it to Jonas along with an un-labelled packet of pills.  There were nine left in there, and Jonas popped three from the silver film, able to take them himself this time.  He flushed them down with water before smiling down at a worried looking Isak.

“Actually, you’re the one who looks like shit, man.”

“ _I_ look like shit?” Isak said, fake-outraged.  “ _Me_ ?   _You_ look like shit!  And not liquid shit!  The gross, dried up kind of cakey shit you find in the grass.  That’s what _you_ look like.”

“Just as well they didn’t touch my face, then,” Jonas said, grimacing.  “Then this really would be a horror story.”

Isak blinked, his eyes cast downwards; Jone could see how upset he actually was, and he tried to dismiss it with a headshake.  “It’s fine, bro.  To be honest they’re a bunch of pussies, the Yakuzas.”

“Right.  Because your injuries look so incredibly feeble.”

“There were _five_ of them.  Like I said, pussies.  If it had been a fair fight I’d have been able to take them.”

“What happened?  Why did they jump you?”

“I guess because they didn’t like my _ugly Jew face_ ,” Jonas recapped bitterly.  Isak put his hand to his mouth in disbelief.

“Don’t cry over it,” Jonas said gruffly.   _You did that yourself while they were kicking you over and over,_ his memories reminded him spitefully.  “It’s just an excuse, they barely even know what Judaism is.”

“Clearly,” Isak said, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to lighten the tone.  “I mean, you’re the most godless person I know.”

“I guess the face and hair is enough,” Jonas said.  “Those pesky genetics.”  He settled back down into Isak’s bed, groaning slightly.  “What a bunch of fucking neanderthals.  Jesus.  My body is not a fucking temple right now.”

“Um… I tried to, like, look at the cuts while you were asleep but it seemed… a bit weird.  So I stopped.  But there was quite a lot.”  He looked queasy.  “Like, a lot of blood.  So, um.”  He shrugged.  “I don’t know what you want to do if you’re not going to the hospital but you know that shit can get infected, right?”

“Oh,” Jonas said, frowning.  “Well.  I don’t know, man, do you have some plasters?”

Isak laughed, then stopped when he realised Jonas was serious.  “You need to clean them up mostly.  And cover them with that… medical stuff?  The white gauzy stuff?  I don’t think plasters are going to do shit, bro.”

“How do I clean it up?”

“I don’t know.  Isn’t alcohol meant to… you know, disinfect it?  I’m sure I remember lots of movies with tough guys getting beat up on and then like, grimacing in a manly way as they rub alcohol into their abs.”

“That sounds more like those pornos I’ve warned you about watching.”  Jonas paused, humming slightly.  “But I think you’re right.  Don’t you use that… white spirit stuff?”

“No… I think that’s for the hardcore shit.  My dad uses it to strip paint.”

“Vodka?”

“Yeah, Vodka would probably work.”

 

***

 

Isak went out to the corner shop at the end of his street as soon as it opened, while Jonas dozed again, enjoying the second wave of painkillers.  He came back with cheap Vodka (“I told them it was for my mum, they actually let me get away with it...”), cotton wipes and medical gauze and went to work.  Jonas shuffled out of his clothes, down to his boxers, trying not grin at Isak’s look of horror when he saw the bruises littering his skin, but other than that they mostly went through it in silence, apart from Jonas screaming “motherfucker” and a whole other litany of curses when Isak blotted alcohol on the some of the deeper and grosser lacerations.  The one on the back of his head, when Jonas had rolled over to try and protect his stomach, was the worst; he gripped the headboard, hands turning white, as Isak awkwardly perched on the side of the bed to dab the blood away.

They missed school that day; Jonas dozed, Isak did whatever.  Mostly Jonas was aware of his best friend sitting there and staring, or messing around on his phone.  The hours ticked by and they heard Isak’s mum shuffling round the house, talking to herself.  Isak went out a couple of times to talk to her but otherwise he didn’t move.

Jonas woke up at around five in the evening, took three more pills, asked Isak to text Elias to bring round more.  That was the point when Isak went slightly mental and told Jonas he needed to go home now, that he couldn’t keep looking after him.

Jonas blinked, wondering what the hell was going on, and ended up leaving Isak’s house in blind anger, yelling at him and calling him a shitty friend.  Isak tried to go with him but he used the small amount of strength he had accumulated during his recovery process to push him back indoors.  He barely remembered getting home, or his body hitting in the bed.  When he woke up a couple of hours later, he got his act together enough to text Elias and ask him for more painkillers, but to bring them to Jonas’s house this time.  Elias texted back: _Sorry man all out of those ones. You shouldn’t take too many anyway they’ll mess with your fucking head._

So Jonas made do with the weaker ones in his bedroom and slept until the next morning; it had now been a day and a half since he’d last eaten and he woke up ravenous, stumbling down for breakfast and trying to hide the pain from his sister who was the only one there.

“Tell mum and dad I’m sick and staying in bed today, if they ask,” he grunted at her before retreating back to his room, loaded up with carbs.

Isak tried contacting him several times that day, apologising and telling him that his mum had been freaking out about Jonas being there and that he was sorry, could he come round this evening to see how he was?  Jonas ignored each message, still pissed off.  The comedown from the stronger painkillers was making him irritable and snappy, but with nobody to direct it towards he was relieved when Isak turned up after school, clearly having ignored Jonas’s lack of response to his texts.  

He carefully sat down on the bed by Jonas’s legs and looked at him shyly.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“What the fuck do you care?” Jonas asked spitefully.  Isak groaned loudly, exasperated.

“I do, Jonas!  You know I fucking do.  But I couldn’t keep asking a drug dealer to come round my house when my mum was there, and she was already not really dealing with you being in the house for so long, and also your parents were going to start worrying if you’d stayed a second evening.  Seriously.  It’s not my fault you got beat up!”

“It isn’t mine either,” Jonas said angrily, and Isak looked down, ashamed.

“I’m just stressed, okay?  Like, this whole thing has freaked me the fuck out.  Seeing you like this.”

“Yeah, well, I’m having to deal with the pain so I think you should _just_ about be about able to deal with some stress, seeing it wasn’t your ribs they used for football practice.”

“I’m sorry.”  Isak stood up awkwardly and moved away from the bed.  “I… I actually spoke to Chris today.”

“Chris?”

“From the Penetrators, you know?  He got beat up the Yakuza a few weeks ago?”

“Okay…?”  Jonas looked at him irritably.  “And?”

“Well, he said that… because the Yakuzas have done this a few times now… beaten people up for no reason, the Penetrators would take care of them.  And that they’d do it this weekend.”

Jonas frowned at him, confused.  “Why is fucking _Penetrator Chris_ telling you stuff like that?  You’re not friendly with him, are you?”

“No,” Isak said, looking embarrassed.  “I just… no, of course not.  I just saw him earlier at school so I asked him.”

“Right.”  Jonas frowned.  “Well, if they’re going to beat them up then I want to be there.”  He felt himself harden when he saw Isak’s face fall with concern.  “I’m _fine_ , Isak.  Stop fucking mothering me.”

“You might not be better by then.”

“I will be.  I want to see that _scum_ get what’s coming to them.  I want to fucking punch them until I break _their_ fucking ribs.”  He screwed his brow up, trying not to relive the weakness he’d felt as they’d pinned him against the concrete and taken turns stamping on his arm.  The way they’d laughed as he’d grimaced in pain, refusing to scream.  “I think I’d actually fucking kill them if I had the chance.”

Isak looked uncomfortable and Jonas snorted with annoyance at him.  “Stop fucking worrying, okay?  It will be fun.”  He shifted in bed, trying to get comfortable.  “Seriously, though, I’m still trying to wrap my head round this Chris thing.  Since when do _you_ of all people just walk up to one of the fucking _Penetrators_ and ask them to avenge your friend’s honour?”

“It… it wasn’t like that.  I told you, Chris was beat up by them too so it was… you know?  Common ground.”

“Chris is a _dick_ , though.  Like, no offence but you’re this weedy-looking boy in the first year.  I’m pretty sure Chris only associates with hot chicks and the other douchebags in his year.  You’re lucky he didn’t fucking punch you in the face for even approaching him.”

“He’s not that bad,” Isak said, shrugging.  “He’s pretty chill to be honest.”

“Pretty _chill_?  Jesus, it gets worse.  You sound like you’ve got a crush on him,” Jonas said, laughing as Isak’s face twisted in embarrassment.

“Fuck off, Jonas!  Why the fuck are you acting like such a dickhead?”

“Because.  You fucking let me get on with _this_ ," he said, indicating his ribs, "on my own."  He was going to continue, to list all his current grievances at Isak, but he stopped when he realised the blonde boy was genuinely upset.  “Look, no, sorry.  It’s because of these pills.  Elias didn’t have anymore so I’m on some weak shit and I honestly feel like I’m going mad.”  He shook his head, trying to change the subject.  “It is funny, though.  You convincing the Penetrators to avenge me.  Like a fucking movie.  This is some _Avengers_ shit right here.”

“You wish you were cool enough to be in _The Avengers_.”

“You’re in it.  You’re Captain America.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?  Captain America is bad-ass.”

“He’s gay as shit, Isak.”

“No!  What the fuck?  He’s literally Captain of America, he bangs chicks all the time.”

“No, seriously, there is an actual petition to make him gay in the movies or something because he like, never bangs chicks in the comics.  Sorry, dude.”

“That’s bullshit.  If any of the Avengers are gay it’s Iron Man.”

“Iron Man is banging Gwyneth Paltrow.”

“Yeah, but Robert Downey Jr is bisexual in real life, so.”

“No he isn’t?” Jonas questioned.  “Where the fuck did you hear that?”

“I don’t know, somewhere?”

“How does a straight guy find out Robert Downey Jr is bisexual?”

“The same way a straight guy finds out Captain America is gay.”  Isak stuck out his tongue childishly and Jonas laughed, immediately regretting it as he felt his ribs push back defiantly.  Isak moved back to the bed and sat down again, like he’d decided being in closer proximity would help Jonas through this, in some strange, intangible way. 

“Do you need anything from me?” he asked.  “More… more pills, or anything?”

Jonas shook his head.  “Just stay and keep me company, okay?”

 

***

 

The fight with the Yakuzas was short and brutal and Jonas enjoyed every second of it.  He watched, riveted, as William smashed a bottle over the leader’s head, establishing dominance immediately, and Jonas surged forward, needing his body to experience the proactive side of violence this time.  He recognised one of the five guys who had jumped him and he grabbed him by the shoulders, ribs still thudding dully but numbed by pills and the alcohol he’d downed before coming.  He headbutted him, spurred on when the guy hit the floor; he swung round to look for his next victim.  He felt like he was flying, like the combination of substances inside him were making him untouchable.  The world around him was muted: burnt browns and yellows, and then red that burst like paint splatters in his eyes.

He looked to see Isak being approached by some guy literally twice his width and he went to help until he felt Chris pushing past him and grabbing the guy by the collar as he positioned himself in front of Isak.  Chris pinned him to the floor and pummeled him like he was raw meat.  Isak took a step back, watching, mostly forgotten in the rabble. Everything seemed to be in slo-motion.  Jonas elbowed a guy in the ribs as he felt someone grab him from the side; he got one last punch in, breaking his victim's nose with a satisfying _crunch_ , before he realised someone was yelling.  The fight was over.

It had ended within minutes.  As the Yakuza stumbled away he felt himself breathing heavily, not so much from physical exertion but from the adrenaline leaving his body.  He looked down to see the guy that William had bottled lying on the ground still; a couple of his friends helped him up and he lunged at William while they dragged him away.  Jonas watched as they pushed their way through the crowd of Penetrators that remained.  Isak was still on the sides, face white as a sheet as he watched them go.  

A couple of guys were still on the floor, groaning on their backs or on their side, so it didn’t look too weird when Isak went down.  One minute he was standing and the next he was hunched over on his knees, breathing heavily.  He hadn’t been hurt, Jonas was sure of that, but he lurched over to help.  Once again he saw Chris starting towards Isak, but Jonas got there first, glaring up at the third year, taking some pleasure in seeing his battered face.  “It’s fine.  I’ll take care of him.”

He dragged Isak up and away.  “We should go before the police come,” he told him.  Isak nodded in dazed agreement.  

They saw Eva with her friends, still outside the bus, starting to come to the same conclusion: now was the time to leave.  They walked together for a short distance, Isak’s arm wrapped around Jonas’s shoulder.  He was probably able to walk on his own but the closeness, the warm body beside him, was exactly the sort of contact Jonas needed right now so he held him in place.

“Are you okay, Isak?”  Eva asked as they walked.  Isak looked at her numbly.

“Yeah.  Blood grosses me out.”

 

***

 

Back at Jonas’s home, he continued to drink, pushing Isak to keep up pace as well.  He kept returning to the fight, to the pureness of William smashing that bottle over the Yakuza’s head.  He talked absolute garbage, he knew he was talking garbage, but he’d never felt so real, so fucking _alive._ He found himself postulating about Nietzsche, about how violence was so real because humans needed it to thrive, like a tree needed to battle a storm in order to grow.  Isak watched him from half-lidded eyes, looking more and more vacant, and Jonas finally snapped at him when he realised he wasn’t paying attention.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Isak blinked.  “My problem?”  He straightened up.  “Huh?”

“You’re acting like someone’s about to turn off your life support machine.  Don’t you fucking _feel_ something?”

“I feel like this is kind of bullshit,” Isak answered honestly.  Jonas took a swig from the half-empty bottle of whiskey and looked at him questioningly, trying not to get angry.  Sometimes Isak just didn’t _get_ it.

“Bullshit how?”

“Like, male bravado bullshit.”  He shrugged, tilting his head back; Jonas took in the pale neck, the pronounced Adam’s apple.  He drank more whisky.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.  Fuck.  I feel sick.”

Isak got up and stumbled out of the room, presumably heading for the toilet.  Jonas drunk more, wishing he could stop the drowsiness from setting in.  He wanted to feel this day forever.  When Isak came back he was looking slightly better but still listless, still too out of it for Jonas’s liking.  He pressed the bottle into his hand but Isak pushed it back.  “I’ve just thrown up, man.”

Jonas took two more gulps, trying to remember what he was talking about.  He felt Isak’s eyes on him, burning into him and he felt his skin prickle.  He didn’t understand that feeling, wasn’t expecting it, wasn't sure he wanted it, so he asked the first question that came into his head to fill the silence in the room.

“Why did Chris protect you?  In the fight?”

Isak looked confused.  “Did he?”

“Yeah.  One of the Yakuza came at you and Chris pulled him back, started going for him.”

“I don’t know.  I’m sure he wasn’t trying to protect me specifically.  He probably  just went for the closest guy to him.”

But no, that didn’t seem right.  Jonas specifically remembered Chris pushing past others to get to Isak.  He’d pushed back Jonas himself, in fact.

“Maybe you did something with him?  To persuade him to fight the Yakuzas?” he said, smiling.  He liked that.  Liked trying to turn Isak’s cheeks red.  Isak looked at him, mouth slightly agape, then shook his head.

“Jesus, you’re drunk man.”

“Maybe you sucked him off?”

“I didn’t, Jonas.” Isak said.  He looked… well, Jonas didn’t know how he looked, but he certainly didn’t look happy.  Jonas grinned, holding the whisky bottle up to emphasise the point he was about to make; the point which he promptly forgot when he dropped the bottle and felt it splash down his jeans.  He laughed, falling to one side, and Isak stood up, reaching down to haul Jonas up with him.

“You need sleep, man.  Lay on your bed.”

He let Isak half pull, half push him over to the other side of the room and when he felt the soft, welcoming surface of the bed he let himself drop, the room spinning.  He held his hands up, grabbing Isak’s soft hair and pulling him down.  “Stay with me, Isak.”

“So you can puke over me while I sleep?”

“Have to stay… might choke on my vomit.”

“You’ll be fine, Jonas,” Isak said, struggling to get free from Jonas’s hands. Jonas gripped more insistently when Isak tried to pull away. “Okay, okay, Jesus. I’ll stay.  I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Good,” Jonas grunted, finally letting go.

Isak shoved him over so he could grab pillows and the top blanket from the bed.  Jonas’s eyes were closed but he could hear his friend trying to settle down and get comfortable.

“I’m glad you didn’t suck his cock,” Jonas said, voice drifting as he fought sleep.   _God, sleep was going to be so good_.  “Really… really… glad.”

“Well then… I’m glad you’re glad.”

“Because… I wouldn’t care about you nearly as much if you were a…” he thought of the word, seized it as sleep descended… “a little slut.”

He didn’t hear Isak say anything else but that was fine because he knew he wouldn’t remember it in the morning anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I am so, so overwhelmed to the response to the previous chapter. I honestly wasn't sure how it would be received, due to the shift in tone, and I wondered at first if it was even too dark to post. So, thank you. You guys reading this and leaving such thought-provoking comments... I am so ridiculously grateful to you all.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the next chapter. I do apologise as it's all pretty much focused on Jonas and Isak again, without much in the way of 'lolz' (no, really, I know what a barrel of laughs it's been so far...!) but we're kind of at a significant point now and a long chat with Isak in the present day was overdue. I hope you agree.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please comment if you'd like. I love responding to them. <3

Isak texted him late Friday night: _You busy?_

Jonas stared down at the screen.  Isak had been quiet and offhand all week; even Magnus and Mahdi had picked up on it.  Even had been busy with his film project and hadn’t been spending as much time with them, but when he'd tried, Isak seemed to be actively avoiding him during break times.  Basically, Jonas had kind of been expecting this text, but he still felt a thrill of anticipation run through him when it appeared on his screen.

_J: What’s up?_

_I: Can I come round?_

_J: I’ll come to you?  My parents have friends over._

That was a lie, but Jonas hadn’t been in Isak’s room for weeks and he wanted to be in that specific part of Isak’s life right now: to inhabit the space where Even fucked Isak, the space where Isak spent time alone with his insecurities.  The space where Jonas pictured him sprawled out on his bed, touching himself as he fantasised about Jonas.  He hoped he sometimes still did that.

_I: OK. See you soon._

He chucked on jeans and a hoodie, pulled on a beanie hat as Isak’s red snapback stared guiltily at him from his desk, and set off.  He couldn’t be bothered to wait for a bus so he picked up his pace, stopping briefly at the convenience store on the way, and arrived within twenty minutes.  

 _Is it too soon since Isak texted me?_ He didn’t want to appear desperate.  He could see the light on in Isak’s bedroom window and he stared up at it for a few moments, picturing the ways this conversation could go.  He caught his breath from walking too quickly, checked his phone, ran through a number of potential scenarios in his head.

When he felt ready, he buzzed up for Isak and then made his way slightly slower than he usually would, up the stairs instead of using the lift.  This meant he arrived at the back of the flat, which hopefully meant less chance of bumping into any of Isak’s flatmates on the way to the bedroom.

“Hi,” Isak said when he answered the door.  Jonas smiled.

“Okay?”

Isak raised an eyebrow at him and tilted his head back, bringing attention to Eskild and Noora's laughs drifting through from the living room.  He nodded, understanding the need for discretion.  

Jonas followed Isak through to the bedroom and looked around at the still-sparse decorations.  His best friend still hadn’t brought much much stuff over from home; apparently the hangover from living in the basement for weeks on end had never fully dissipated for him.  Nonetheless, Jonas saw a few new additions: a fuller clothes rail thanks to the usual Christmas present haul and, Jonas could see, a fair few of Even’s hoodies and tops.  A new laptop at the desk.  New pictures, mostly stuff Even had drawn, stuck on the walls.  The girls-in-swimsuit pictures had finally come down, he noticed with a wry grin.

“This feels more like Even’s room than yours these days,” he joked.  Kind of joked.  Isak looked embarrassed.

“You think?”

“He’s doing that thing where he’s marking his territory by leaving his stuff here all the time.  Classic three-months-into-the-relationship trick.  Eva tried it with me.”

“We’re not three months in.”

“Well he’s moving fast then,” Jonas said.  He smiled to show he was joking, even though he wasn’t joking, and Isak didn’t laugh anyway.

“I bought Vodka on the way over,” he announced, placing his rucksack on the floor by Isak’s bed and sitting down in order to rummage through.  He pulled it out and asked, “Do you want to get mixers, or…?”

“No.  Neat is fine, I guess.”  

Isak sat down next to Jonas, and Jonas noticed for the first time that he was wrapped up in a hat and a hoodie: his blonde hair almost completely covered, his unruly fringe just about peeking out from the sides.  That was odd.  Since getting together with Even, Jonas had noticed an overnight change in the way Isak dressed: he’d gone from covering himself up in a thousand layers to rarely wearing hats, and often wearing form fitting shirts.  Jonas didn’t mind the change because, well, Isak looked hot.  He wasn’t going to deny that much.  But he resented the reasons for it.  He resented who Isak was doing it for.

Now, though, Isak was wearing his clothes like a barrier and Jonas wondered why.  He held the bottle out to him, hoping to loosen him up with alcohol, but Isak stared at it without accepting it.

“Do you remember we used this stuff to disinfect your cuts when you got jumped by the Yakuzas?”

Jonas looked at the label and frowned.  “This exact brand?”

“Yeah.  Cheapest I could get.”  Isak’s face lightened slightly.  “That makes you a cheapskate.  This stuff is barely drinkable.”

“Well.  Um.”  Jonas grinned back guilty.  “I guess I figured you were a cheap date these days, now you’re with a penniless wannabe film director.”  He stared down at the bottle.  “You still want some?”

Isak bit his lip, looking sheepish.  “Not really.  I kind of associate it with you calling me a _fucking fuckface._ And cleaning up that gaping gash at the back of your head while trying not to puke up.”

“That’s not the only kind of _gash_ that makes you puke these days,” Jonas replied, and Isak fell back on the bed laughing.

“You made a funny.”

“I’m always funny.”  He twisted the lid off the vodka and took a gulp, watching Isak carefully.  “Fuck, I’ve missed this, bro.”

Isak turned his face to one side, slightly embarrassed, but he nodded and Jonas could see it was sincere.

“So… what was so important that I had to disrupt my _crazy_ Friday night schedule of stuffing pizza into my mouth and cry-wanking at old pictures of Eva?” he asked, trying to get Isak to laugh again, but the moment had passed and he remained silent.  Jonas watched as he traced a circle with his finger on the duvet, his head resting against his hand.  “Did you want to talk about… that stuff with Elias?” he asked gently.

“No,” Isak said quickly, eyes flashing in frustration.  Jonas held his hands up in mock surrender

“Okay, man.  Just… sorry.  I thought in the canteen that day, maybe… you were going to say something?  But I get it, alright?”

“Just.  Um.  Can you look at something?” Isak asked.  Jonas nodded, and Isak leant across his bed without sitting up, crawling over to pick up his phone.  Then he shuffled back to Jonas, swinging his legs round so his head was level with Jonas’s chest.  He unlocked his phone and Jonas saw him go into the camera roll.  “You need to promise… you _can’t_ freak out.  And you _can’t_ tell Even.”

“Okay,” Jonas said softly.  “No freaking out, no telling Even.  I think I can manage that.”

“Just… start here.  And scroll through,” Isak said, handing the phone to him.  His palms must have been sweaty; Jonas felt the perspiration as he rested it against his own.

Isak had taken numerous screenshots of the comments section on his Instagram.  Jonas scrolled through and he felt his mouth become drier with each swipe.  He paused for a moment, swigged some more Vodka.  Isak stared down at the bed impassively.

_AB234: lol what a slut_

_Coolguy9844: ur a cute fag. Bet he fucking destroys you every night._

_Coolguy9844: i’d fucking pin you down and cum in your mouth_

_Trolltroll3224: lol i know where you live i’ll fucking come and give you a good seeing to, you’d love it ;)_

_AB234:pretty boy u need a cock in your mouth_

_Coolguy9844: little bitches like you need putting in their place_

There were many more.  At least fifty.  Sometimes the comments were from the same accounts, sometimes the accounts changed.  All the account names were generic words and numbers, either automated or created quickly.  They were only ever on photos that Isak had posted of himself.   The worst of them had been left on the photo of him and Even together; Even pressing a kiss to Isak’s cheek, Isak grinning at the camera.  That had been the last picture Isak had posted, but Jonas didn't think that was the reason it had been the most targeted.

Jonas put the phone down on the bed beside him.  Isak was still staring mutely.

“Is this all of them?”

“No.  I wasn’t screenshotting them at first, just deleting them.  It’s been going on for over two weeks, and I get at least five a day.  Normally closer to ten.”

_Just over two weeks since you told Elias that Isak had a boyfriend.  Just over two weeks since you pissed him off and stopped buying his shit._

“You’ve reported this to Instagram?”

“Yeah, but… whoever it is, if it even is just one person, they just create new accounts.”

“What about the police?”

“They’re just… they’re trolling.  It’s not serious enough for the police.”

“Isak, are you serious?!” Jonas picked up the phone and scrolled through to one of the worst ones.  “‘ _I’ll fuck you til youre begging me to stop, cant wait to hear you cry lol’._ How is that _not_ fucking _serious_?”  He flung the phone down in disgust; Isak flinched at the sudden expression of anger.  “You know who this is, right?”  Isak looked at him, confused, and shook his head.  “Fucking hell, Isak.  Isn't it obvious?  It’s Elias.”

“Elias?”

“Um… _yeah_ ,” Jonas said, trying not to sound as though he thought Isak was being irredeemably naive and stupid.  Isak looked genuinely confused, as though he hadn’t even considered the possibility.   _He isn’t that good a liar_ , Jonas realised.  Elias, who had forced Isak, who had hurt him; Elias, who had turned his innocent, easy-going dork of a friend into a frightened kid who had panic attacks while trying to convince people nothing was wrong with him: Isak still didn’t view Elias as a threat.  It was easier for him to attribute this behaviour to faceless internet trolls than it was to confront the possibility that Elias still wanted something from him.  

 _But then, he hasn’t seen Elias for months.  You’re the one who got Elias thinking about Isak again_ , Jonas realised.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his frustration at bay.  He didn’t want Isak to clam up.  He reset his face to neutral, as difficult as that was, and waited for Isak to speak again.

“I put my profile on private yesterday,” Isak said, carefully changing the subject.  “It just got way too much.  But then I had to change it back because Magnus noticed and asked me why, but he asked it in front of Even…  And, even though Even says Instagram is… a _false concept_ or something like that, I could tell he was hurt.  So I had to lie and say I’d done it by accident.  I had to change it back in front of them.”  His voice crackled with frustration.  “He was so happy when I posted that picture of me and him together, and now because I’m a shit liar he thinks that I’m… still not ready to be public.”  He shrugged.  “And maybe I’m not, because this?” He referred to his phone.  “This makes me think being _out_ isn’t even worth it.”

“Which is exactly what he wants you to think,” Jonas said, deciding to avoid Elias's name this time.  “But just because one idiot with a laptop and too much time on his hands tries to make you feel… like this… like you’re doing something wrong, that doesn’t mean you should go backwards.  You’re better than that.”

Isak finally looked up at him, and he seemed genuinely moved by what Jonas had just said.  Then his face flickered with embarrassment and he looked back down.  “I feel like all we ever do these days is talk about my bullshit problems.  I’m sorry.”

Jonas rolled his eyes, before shifting himself so he was laying next to Isak on the bed. “Stop it, okay?  I told you, I’m always here if you can’t talk to Even about this stuff.”

“But… we used to have way more fun than we do now.  Everything’s so much more serious since -”  He trailed off, shaking his head.  “I guess since Even.”

As much as Jonas liked to hear Isak acknowledging that he’d changed since getting together with Even, he knew this was basically bullshit.  If anything, Isak was at his most relaxed and light-hearted when he was in Even’s presence.  When Even looked at him, talked to him, his best friend opened up like a flower turning towards the sun.  Any idiot could see that.

No, the truth was that something had fundamentally altered in Isak long before he’d met Even.  Their friendship hadn’t been _easy_ or particularly _fun_ for months and months now.  Sure, there had been times, when Isak’s defences broke down and he laughed and joked and his body lost the tension that seemed to engulf him whenever Jonas got too close, but mostly the overriding emotion had been a strange, head-fucking breed of awkwardness that Jonas had attributed solely to Isak’s crush on him and which he now realised was something so, so much more complex than that.

“Can you do something for me?  Put Even out of your mind for a minute.  Think about the last time, before you met him, that you were happy.  Really, really happy.”  He looked closely at his friend, who only needed to consider this for a second before nodding.  “Well?”

“The beach by the cabin.  You were on the guitar playing _I’m Yours._ Eva was having a strop and yelling at us when we tried to chuck marshmallows at her.”  He smiled, genuinely lifted by this for a moment.  And then he saw Jonas staring at him sadly and he got it.  He understood what Jonas was trying to talk to him about.  Jonas saw him visibly turn in on himself again.

“You said to me and Even that you were a mess when you did that stuff with Elias.  But you weren’t,” Jonas said, determined to persevere with this.  “You were my best friend and I knew you.  I knew you were happy.  I mean, I know that things were shit with your parents, and that you were fucking ridiculous with girls while somehow convincing people you had mad game with them,” he added teasingly, “But you _were_ happy.”  He paused, knowing he had to say this, that he’d come this far and he couldn’t go back on it now.  “After that holiday you were different.  I couldn’t work out why and I never said anything because I figured it was just something you were dealing with.  But now I think it’s pretty obvious… what it was that changed in you.”

Isak was very still and very silent.  Jonas tried to catch his eye but even as he stared at him head-on, he could see nothing in the hazel eyes except a resigned dullness.  It ran so deep that it seemed in danger of splitting his best friend down the middle.  He waited, letting his words sink in, needing Isak to accept the fundamental truth of what he was saying.  

After a time, Isak sniffed, rubbing his face, as though he was waking up from sleep.  He took a deep breath and said, “I changed because I was in love with you, Jonas.”

He’d clearly been expecting Jonas to be taken aback by the news, to be shocked, for the words to only fall into place after Jonas had replayed them back in his mind.  But Jonas refused to prolong this train of thought.  He didn’t want to stray too far from the subject.  Isak was still trying to avoid the truth.

“Isak, you’ve been in love with me since we were fourteen.  Maybe even younger.  I’ve always known it.  It had nothing to do with your behaviour after the cabin.”

He'd said the words too sharply, too bluntly, and he realised immediately how shitty it had sounded.  This was a secret Isak had thought he’d buried so deep, and for so long; he’d always fought to keep it hidden from Jonas, and now Jonas was simply telling him _I know._ Maybe this would be the thing to break Isak.  The final blow that finished the job Elias had started in the stifling darkness of the bedroom in the cabin.  Jonas didn’t want it to be.  He didn’t want to be the one to wrench his best friend’s last remaining reserves of strength from him.

“When you look at a guy you’re in love with,” Jonas said, keeping his tone gentle, “you look at them like they’re everything.  You look… so fucking soft… and hopeful.   _Sweet_.  And it’s impossible not to notice if you’re the… the one on the receiving end.  You look at Even like that now, and… that’s how you used to look at me.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  Our friendship wasn’t a lie, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Isak remained silent.  Jonas shifted on the bed, deciding to sit up.  The atmosphere between them had shifted and he didn’t know what came next.   “Please, tell me what you're thinking,” he pleaded.  Isak looked up at him, the gravity of Jonas’s words still sinking in.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it didn’t matter to me.  You were still my best friend.”   _And I was an idiot.  I knew, and I pretended I didn’t feel the same way, when I could have held you and kissed you and Elias would never have touched you and we would have been happy._

“You didn’t… you didn’t mind?”

“No.”

“But I…” Isak took a deep breath, “I was a horrible person, Jonas.  You’re wrong.  You’re wrong about me.  I wasn’t horrible because of what I did with Elias.  I did things that were… really... really screwed up.  So screwed up.  I tried to split you and Eva up.  I played mind games with her, stirred things up when she was worried about you and Ingrid. I got into a relationship with Sara even though I didn’t want her to touch me, and I broke up with her by fucking _text_ .  None of that had _anything_ to do with… with the cabin.  With that holiday.  It was all completely separate.  It was me being a bad person.”

Jonas basically knew about the stuff with Eva; she was spectacularly unsubtle when she was drunk and had made numerous jokey comments about Isak’s Machiavellian tendencies.  He’d obviously worked out that the relationship with Sara had been a farce.  None of it mattered to him but he could see how deeply it all still affected Isak.  He tried to grab his arm but Isak shifted back, pulling himself into a sitting position.  He pulled his knees in close to his chest and stared at Jonas from underneath the hood of his sweater and Jonas was reminded inexorably of how he’d looked in the cabin that night.

And as he thought it, he couldn’t stop himself.  He felt hot tears in his eyes and he couldn’t stem the flow that followed; he found himself sobbing like he hadn’t in years, since… well, he couldn’t even remember when.  Isak’s face fell, like he was horrified and disgusted with himself, and he launched himself at Jonas suddenly, pulling him into a tight fierce hug that penetrated every nerve ending in Jonas’s body.  Jonas sobbed into his best friend’s shoulder, and gripped onto his arms so tightly it must have hurt.  But Isak said nothing.  And neither did Jonas, though his heartbeat thudded words into all the dark parts of his brain that weren’t focused solely on Isak’s touch and closeness.

_I’m sorry I left you that night._

_I’m sorry I let Elias into your life._

_I’m sorry he’s still in it._

_I’m sorry for almost breaking you._

_I’m sorry that I love you._

_I’m sorry I didn’t tell you._

_I’m sorry for letting you go._

They remained this way for minutes. Jonas _tried_ to calm himself down, tried to tell himself he was scaring Isak, but Isak didn’t let go, didn’t try to pull away, didn’t try to find out what had just malfunctioned in Jonas’s wiring to make him react in this way.  He simply gripped onto him like they were in a lifeboat swept out to the Arctic Circle, and Jonas gripped back, until the words were gone from his head and he was finally able to breathe.

His sobbing eventually died down to a series of silent, embarrassing hiccups, and he reluctantly dropped his hands which he’d fisted into the now-damp material of Isak’s hoodie.  He pulled back, and Isak raised an eyebrow, deciding it was time to lighten the mood.

“You stole my act, bro.”  His voice was croaky, obviously affected by what had just happened, but he was trying his hardest and Jonas appreciated it.

“Yeah, well, I figured you were about to pussy out on me so I got there first.”  He sniffled, wiping his nose.  He must have looked ridiculously gross and snotty, but Isak did a sterling job of ignoring it.

“Anyway,” he continued shakily, “Before I, uh, broke down in your manly arms, I was going to say that… that stuff you did?  Not to ignore it completely, because, yeah, totally, you were a snakey little bitch back then by the sounds of it and I’ve had kicked your arse if I knew.  But I get it, okay?  And for the record, I think that… that you were probably scared.  And lonely.  And I don’t think that you can totally separate those feelings from… from what happened with Elias.  And I don’t think you should.”

Perhaps he had pushed it too far now.  He’d spoken Elias’s name several times since he’d entered the room, whereas Isak had barely said it at all.  He hadn’t seemed to acknowledge that Jonas was doing it, though maybe that had been deliberate.  Now he looked at him like he’d finally heard it for the first time.  

Something changed in his eyes; Jonas watched him closely and saw it.  It was as though Isak was finally putting two and two together.  He’d been turfed out out from his hiding place, startled by Jonas’s crying - the sheer force of emotion Jonas had admitted to had seemingly overwhelmed him - and now he was making himself look around.  To see what was out here.

Jonas didn’t drop eye contact.   _Say it_ , his mind pleaded.   _Just talk about that night.  Talk about what happened._

But he didn't.  Isak’s phone vibrated on the bed next to him, and he saw his face pale as he recognised the Instagram notification.  Jonas snatched it up before Isak had the chance to.  He read it through and grimaced.

_HashTag4401: Keep ignoring me and i’ll come find you little cocksucker._

“They always start around this time,” Isak admitted.   _The time Elias usually starts sparking up_ , Jonas realised.  

Jonas handed him the phone and watched as the blonde boy opened the app up and deleted the comment.  He looked tired.  Exhausted.  He put the phone down next to him but Jonas pushed it away from them until it was out of sight.  He reached forward and tilted Isak’s chin up.

“I will never let anyone hurt you again,” he told him.  Isak opened his mouth wordlessly, shutting it when he realised he didn’t know how to respond to this.  Jonas didn’t interrupt his thought process, though he had so many things he wanted to say.  He knew that something had shifted, ever so slightly, in Isak’s perception and that he had to wait to find out what it was.   _Please_ , he tried to convey, his eyes bearing into Isak.   _Talk to me.  Tell me tonight so I can start to fix this._

“If you and Even are right… if he did that to me... if he’s doing this to me still,” Isak said quietly, “then I don't know what it means.  Any of it.”  His body tensed under Jonas’s gaze as the phone vibrated again.  He turned away, his shoulders hunched.

“You should go.  I need to sleep.”

Jonas thought about this.  He could try again.  He could push a little further.  He knew there had been some sort of breakthrough tonight, even if it had been tiny.

Maybe it was enough for now.

“Sleep, then.  I’ll stay here for a bit.”

It was something he’d learnt over the years, that Isak slept more peacefully when Jonas was with him.  Maybe it wasn’t true anymore; maybe now it was only Even that made Isak relaxed enough to fight against the insomnia that usually riddled his body.  But it was worth a try.

“No, you shouldn’t…”

“Come on, bro.  You’ve literally just held me in your arms while I fucking sobbed like a little girl. I think we’re done with formalities at this point.”

Isak paused, his defences dropping minutely, and he nodded.  Maybe he was just sick of protesting.  He pulled his hat off, wrapped himself under the duvet, and stirred a couple of times under Jonas’s gaze.  His body eventually started to relax, his head drooping more certainly into his pillow.

Jonas waited.  He waited even after he heard the soft, steady breathing, the rhythmic rise and fall of Isak’s narrow shoulders.  He waited for at least half an hour.  He turned on the lamp light next to Isak’s bed, turned off the main light overhead.  He stroked the blonde fringe from his best friend’s face and wondered how it would feel to be the one to do this every night.

When he was finally confident that Isak wouldn’t wake up for a while, he checked the phone again.  Six more Instagram messages had come in, all from different accounts.  All of them were as depraved as the last and he pinched the bridge of his nose as a tension headache hit him.  

He’d known about the implied threats from Elias: the picture of Isak’s address, the casual way he’d dropped him into the messages.  He’d been an idiot to think that Elias would leave Isak out of this.

 _You have to fix this now_ , he told himself.  His skin felt itchy, strange; he realised how badly he needed a hit of something in his system, something to dull the intensity of the evening now there were no real distractions.  He tried to work out what came next, his mind slowing to a sluggish crawl.

The phone vibrated again and he looked down to read it.  But it wasn’t another filth-loaded threat.  It was a message from Even, looking out of place in the sea of vile Instagram notifications.

_Even Kosegruppa: ok I get it.  No stupid lyrics, no selfies of me with a kidnapped puppy looking cute and sad.  Just let me know youre ok b/c I’m worried about you and according to this dumb animal i’ve now got to return i have to be honest and tell you how much i love you.  Which is so much. If you keep pushing me away i’ll just be THAT guy who can’t fucking read the room and makes an embarrassment of himself. Oh and you’re everything to me.  For real._

Jonas had never read anything so sickeningly sincere in his life.  He put in Isak’s pincode (Isak was hopeless at keeping his pin secret) and deleted the Instagram comments.  He opened up Even’s message and read it through again.  Then he pressed down until the option screen appeared.

He deleted the message and placed the phone next to Isak’s pillow. 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrestled with so many aspects of this chapter and I'm still not 100% happy with it, particularly around the structure. So I apologise if it's a confusing read. Apart from the bits that are meant to be confusing, which are in there deliberately. So, yeah, confusion all round! Yay! ;-)
> 
> Warnings for some disturbing language and some explicit reference to non-consensual sexual activity.

_ J: Hey man. So I owe you an apology. Isak told me he was totally down for that stuff at the cabin, guess I overreacted. Your good shit was too good, made me fkng paranoid. ;) we cool? _

_ E: Of course man I get it. You were just looking out for your bro. Believe me tho he’s filthy haha. Peace offering waiting at mine if your up for it? _

_ J: Serious? You’re such a legend.  I’ll be round later. _

 

***

 

Jonas arrived at school on Monday and, not wanting to socialise, headed straight to the lockers to grab his books for the morning.  He stopped when he saw Even standing alone, waiting by Isak’s locker.  It was too late to pretend he hadn’t seen him, as he much as he wanted to, so he forced himself to walk over over to his own locker with a neutral expression on his face.

“Hello,” he said, taking his bag off his shoulders.  Even seemed to consider him, sharp eyes travelling his face, before remembering to smile.

“Hello.”

They both paused, trying to think of something else to say to fill the silence that followed.

“How was your weekend?” Jonas asked, at exactly the same time Even said, “I have an idea about helping Isak.”

Jonas turned to his locker again, processing this development in his mind, and Even looked at him expectantly.

“Okay?” he said, pinning in his code.  “What is it?”

But Even didn’t answer. Jonas noticed the older boy straightening up, his expression softening as he looked over Jonas’s shoulder, and Jonas glanced back to see Isak approaching.  He was about to greet him when Isak pushed Even against the locker and went up on tip-toes to greet the older boy with a lingering kiss.

The corridor was full of students; they cat-called and whistled as Isak and Even deepened the kiss.  Even grabbed Isak’s arms and spun him around so he was pressed up against the locker.  Jonas forced himself to look away.  He was only inches away from them and the image burned through his consciousness; he felt like he’d been slapped sharply, yet at the same time he was fascinated with how responsive Isak’s body was as he arched his back against the locker.   _ What a fucking mess you are _ , he chided himself.

When Even eventually pulled away, he heard Isak moan softly.  Jonas stared at the books he was clutching onto like a lifebuoy, realising his stupid,  _ stupid _ decision to delete Even’s text had served no purpose whatsoever; it had just been another fuck up he’d made, in a long line of them.

“You’re an idiot,” Isak was telling Even, his fingers still balled into the material of Even’s coat.  Even raised his eyebrows, taken aback.

“Um, okay?”

“I don’t  _ care _ about people knowing I’m gay.  You don’t get to decide my feelings for me.  Just because I sometimes do things that don’t make sense, don’t assume I’m trying to hide something.”  He looked at Even with all the fierceness his puppy-dog eyes could muster and then added in English, “ _ Got it _ ?”

“I didn’t-”

“I saw your face when Magnus said my profile was locked.  You thought I was doing it to hide.  And you still thought it, even after I told you it was a mistake.”  Isak blushed slightly at that.  “And yes, that was a lie.  I did do it on purpose.  But there was a reason.”

He glanced at Jonas then, acknowledging him for the first time.  Even looked across too, noticing his gaze, and frowned at both of them.

“Someone’s been leaving weird messages on there.  Like, constantly.  So I’ve made it private again. And I  _ don’t _ want you thinking it has anything to do with you, or us.  Because I… I love you.  You ridiculous piece of shit.”

“So fucking romantic,” Even said drolly.  He leaned forward and rubbed his nose against Isak’s.  “I love you too.”

Jonas assumed this was the moment he was supposed to smile fondly at the cuteness of his best friend in love, and give him some privacy with his adoring boyfriend.  Instead, he cleared his throat.  They looked over to him, Isak blushing slightly as Even’s words continued to register.

“You didn’t ask him what the messages were about,” Jonas said to Even.  Isak shook his head at him, pleading with his eyes, but Jonas ignored him. On Friday, Isak  had asked him not to tell Even about the messages; now Even knew, because Isak had announced it himself, he was pretty sure the promise no longer stood.  

Resigned to the line of questioning that was sure to follow, Isak sighed softly and rested his head against the lockers.  “They’re just… creepy, pervy messages.  They’re not a big deal.  They’re honestly more an inconvenience than anything else.”

“They’re rape threats.  Tons of them.  All from different accounts.  Someone is spending serious amounts of time sending them,” Jonas added.  “Of course, the  _ someone _ is obvious, but he won’t listen to me.”

“Elias,” Even said.  It wasn’t a question.

“You can’t accuse someone without… without having evidence,” Isak said, though his tone was weak, as though he knew he was fighting a losing battle now that both Jonas  _ and  _ Even were aware of what was happening.  “They’ll stop now I’ve locked my profile.  It isn’t an issue.”

“You locked your profile again?” Magnus asked from behind them.  They all looked up guiltily, but he was opening his locker, oblivious to the actual tone of the discussion.  “What’s the deal with that?”

“Nothing.  There is no deal.”  Isak coughed slightly and then said, “Are you coming to ICT?”

“Okay,” Magnus said, grabbing a folder.  He looked from Isak to Even, a playful expression on his face.  “Are you going to have another make-out session before we go?”

“Jesus. How fucking fast does gossip fucking spread in this school?” Isak muttered under his breath as he stomped away.  Magnus hurried after him, flashing an amused grin in Jonas’s direction.

Once again, Jonas and Even were left on their own and Jonas finally finished pretending to look around in his locker.  He locked it, waiting for Even to speak again.  Even paused to let a crowd of second years pass by, then leaned in.

“How much of a… a threat is Elias right now?”

Jonas shrugged.  Even peered at him expectantly, eyes narrowed, and he admitted, “A pretty big threat, I’d say.  He sent me a message with Isak’s address.  His flatshare address, I mean.  He’s leaving these comments.  And…”

“And?” Even said, voice lowering in warning.

“He’s going to be angry with me, for not buying from him anymore.”

_ Liar,  _ his brain reminded him helpfully.

Even looked confused for a moment.  

“Buying?”

“Drugs, Even.  He’s a dealer.”

“A dealer?!”

“Did I fucking stutter?”  Jonas swiped his hand over his face, knowing how bad this all sounded.   “Just an all-round nice guy, right?”

“But you were friends with him,” Even said accusingly.  Jonas gave a tiny nod.

“I was.”  He had no justification for it, and Even let out a small sigh.  Jonas realised in that moment how incredibly frustrating it was to feel like he was fucking up all the time, while Even seemed to glide through life despite the struggles he no doubt dealt with on a daily basis.  How had the universe tilted on its axis like this?  There was a time when Jonas used to class himself as the most  _ together  _ person in the school.  He was such a fucking mess these days.  He knew that everyone was thinking it, none more so than Even.

“We still don’t know for sure that he left those comments,” Even pointed out.  

" _I_ know,” Jonas said.  “I recognise it.  The way he texts… the way he writes those comments.  The way he spoke about-”

"About Isak?”

“Sometimes.  Mostly about girls.”  Even raised an eyebrow at him and he snapped, “I know, okay!  I know what you’re thinking and I don’t know what to tell you.  I don’t understand why I didn't pick up on the signs.  But I had  _ no _ idea he’d hurt Isak.  Okay?  So stop looking at me like I fucking..  _ watched  _ it happen or something.”

“It sounds to me like you  _ did _ have an idea,” Even told him, eyes flashing.  “To me, it sounds like you didn’t want to confront what was right in front of your eyes.  Honestly?  Right now it sounds like you presented Isak to him and-” he lowered his voice when he realised that other students were peering at them curiously as they walked past, intrigued by the intensity of the discussion, “and that you didn’t give a shit about your responsibility as Isak’s friend.  When you’re best friends with someone, you implicitly make a promise to be there for them when they need you.  You  _ broke _ that promise, Jonas.”

If Jonas had felt the harsh sting of humiliation before, as he’d watched Isak and Even kiss and make up, now he felt like he’d been sucker punched in the stomach.  He somehow managed not to crumble completely under Even’s fierce criticism, telling himself to  _ breathe _ , but that wasn’t easy when he knew that every word Even said was true.

Even bit his lip, refraining from going in again.  Finally he spun on his heel and walked away.

“What was your idea?” Jonas called after him, not wanting to be left alone while he felt this way, but Even simply ignored him and headed out of the corridor.

 

***

 

Instead of going to his lesson, Jonas left the school.  He walked to the park and rolled up his first joint of the day.  His hands were still trembling from his conversation from Even and it took him a while to assemble the roll-up, but once it was done he felt some of the harshness of the exchange dim from his mind as the effects of the weed curled into his body and un-tensed the parts of his body he hadn’t even realised had seized up.

The effects of the drug were two-fold, though, and the more he smoked the more he thought back to last night, about sitting on Elias’s beat-up sofa as he played along with this sick game.  

“Let me tell you about his fucking mouth,” Elias was saying.  Jonas had taken a long drag of the joint he’d been given and pushed down every feeling inside of him.  Every bit of anger, sadness, hatred, sickness… he’d pushed it all down and forced himself to listen without response.   He laid back on the sofa and stared up towards the ceiling.  He hadn’t wanted Elias to view his face too closely.  Jonas had been able to repress his feelings; he got through this conversation by closing himself off enough, but he’d only been able to do it by focusing all his energy on remaining impassive.  The split seconds - the moments of disgust that flickered and then hardened in his eyes… Elias would have noticed those if Jonas hadn’t buried them immediately.

“You know how some girls just have cocksucker mouths?  I mean, most do,” Elias had explained to him, laughing.  “Because let’s face it, we don’t turn down blowjobs from warm and willing female mouths.  But sometimes, just very occasionally, you see a guy who has it as well.”  He blew a smoke circle out.  “Isak’s got that cocksucking mouth.  It’s shaped all… you know?  That curve on his top lip?”  Jonas watched in disgust from the corner of his eye as Elias ran his fingers over his own mouth, smiling with his eyes shut.  “Basically saying  _ Insert cock here _ .”

_ I will scratch your fucking eyes out so you can’t ever look at his mouth again _ , Jonas thought.

He replied, “So you just knew?  When you saw him?”

“From, like, the first second, man.  He had his lips wrapped round a bottle of beer and he looked at me like he fucking  _ knew _ I’d have him on his knees one day.”

“I never noticed him looking at you like that.”

Elias had laughed at that.  “Because he kept it hidden from you.”

“But, I mean...” Jonas breathed through his nose, trying to block out the familiar sound of blood ringing in his ears,  “He was so in denial back then.  How did you  _ honestly _ know?”

Elias had looked at him for a moment like he was casually weighing up his options.  He took another long drag.  “What did I need to know?  Come on, man, we’re on the same page, aren’t we?  Little fags get put in their place.  You just need to show them what that place is.”

_ I will put you in the fucking ground, _ Jonas thought.

Out loud, he’d laughed in encouragement.

 

***

 

He was ready to write the day off as a failure and go home when he got a message through from Even.  They hadn’t ever exchanged numbers so Even must have asked someone for it.  Presumably not Isak.  Maybe Magnus.

He found himself getting agitated when he saw who it was.  He didn’t want Even just  _ contacting  _ him whenever he felt like it.  

_ He won’t _ , his brain reminded him.   _ He barely tolerates you as it is. _

He forced himself to read beyond the first few words.

_ Hey it’s Even. I’m sorry for saying that earlier it was shitty of me. I’m honestly just fucking stressed about it and i’m not dealing with it brilliantly.  I guess none of us are. I don’t blame you for what happened, i know how much you care about Isak. my idea was to go to the school doctor and ask her about how we can talk to Isak, like what sort of things we should be saying or doing to help him talk about it?  Do you have any free periods soon? _

Jonas read the text several times.  He had no reason not to believe the apology was sincere: he got the impression that Even didn’t do anything if he wasn’t sincere about it.  And his idea was… actually pretty good.  He knew that most students thought Doctor Skrulle was the devil incarnate, but on the few occasions Jonas had been to see her, she’d offered him fairly decent advice.

But.  (There was always a but, recently.)  He didn’t like the fact that Even had come up with this idea.  He felt like Even had stolen the opportunity from him, even though it had never crossed his mind before now.  His mind became petty; he gave into that instinct.

He texted back:  _ Have you been to see her before?  _

He waited another minute before the message buzzed through.   _ No I have a specialist doctor I got to but I think she’s meant to be ok? _

Jonas began to type.   _ She’s honestly a bit weird. Plus i think that she would have to report it if she thought Isak was still at risk.  It’s a good idea man but i’m not sure it’s worth the trouble. _

He waited longer this time for a message.   _ Okay. just an idea, forget it.  Oh btw between us we need to make sure Isak isn’t out on his own. Particularly going to/from school/home.  I’ll go with him most times but on thursdays after school I have weekly check ups so can you do it then? _

Jonas typed  _ FUCK YOU _ then deleted it. He retyped  _ Sure _ and pressed send.

 

***

 

He went to see Doctor Skrulle the next morning, after secretly tailing Even to ensure he wasn’t doing the same thing.  Once he saw the older boy disappear into a classroom, the lesson already in progress, he headed to the medical centre.

Doctor Skrulle had no appointments when he arrived so he was able to go right in.  She was typing something on her computer when he took a seat facing her desk.  She ignored him for at least a minute before turning to face him.  She pulled up the sleeves to her white coat like she was preparing to operate and smiled at him blandly.  “How can I help?”

Jonas looked her in the eye, needing to establish some terms first.  “You can’t report something if I don’t give you the name, right?  If I talk to you hypothetically?  Even if you think someone might be at risk?”

She clearly wasn’t expecting this.  Her response, however, was not to be taken aback, but to lean forward, intrigued.  “Now there’s a question.   _ Can I report if I don’t have a name?   _ Hmm.  I suppose it does make it more difficult.”

“I… hypothetically... have a friend, and something hypothetically happened to him over a year ago.  I need to ask your advice but he’s very clear he doesn’t want involvement from the police or anyone else.  I’m trying to help him to see sense but I don’t want… you know…?  Professionals swooping in to take the choice away from him.”

“ _ Swoop _ ?” She smiled, amused by his choice of words.  “Like an owl?”  She made an owl noise.  Jonas blinked but didn’t smile back and she eventually nodded.

“Okay.  I understand.  The answer to your question is that if you were to tell me a student here at Nissen was at immediate risk from harm, I would have to report this conversation, regardless of whether I had a name.  However, if you are  _ hypothetically  _ asking me for advice and I had the common sense to see that your friend was currently, basically safe?  The decision would be down to him to come forward when he feels ready.  Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“So.”  She smiled again, with a bit more kindness this time.  “Take your time.  Tissues are here,” she said, indicating the box on her desk, “Water is over there,” she said, pointing to the cooler in the corner of the room.  “And I’m here.”  She rested her hands in her lap and waited.

It came out like a confession; once he started, he couldn’t stop, and she didn’t try to interrupt him.  The few memories of Elias and Isak before the cabin, the aftermath, Isak's change of behaviour after that holiday, Elias’s admission to him before the New Year, the way that Isak was acting now he’d been confronted: he talked about all of it.  He didn’t talk about the newer threats, and his references to the cabin were vague, oblique.  He didn’t want to give voice to the act itself.  He knew she could put two and two together.

When he’d finished his head was thumping. He felt kind of dizzy, and he wandered over to the cooler and poured himself a glass of freezing water.  Doctor Skrulle hadn’t taken her eyes off him the entire time and he felt embarrassed now that he’d talked at her for so long, in such a rambling and inarticulate way.

“This sounds like a very challenging thing for you.”

“For me?”  He took a gulp of water.  “Don’t you mean for Is-... for my friend?”

“Yes.  For both of you.  But you’re the one in front of me and so my priority as a doctor is to make sure you’re physically and emotionally healthy.  First and foremost.”  She leaned forward.  “Can you be honest with me, Jonas?  Are you under the influence of illegal substances at the moment?”

He gripped the water too hard and the plastic cup crumpled in his hand, pushing water over the top.  He put it down on the table next to the cooler.  “No.”

“No?”

“Just… just some medication… for...”  _ Fuck, what had he even taken this morning?   _ “For anxiety.  Maybe it makes me act weird?  Gives me the shakes?  I don’t know.”

“Okay.”  She indicated for him to sit down again and he reluctantly obeyed.  “Do you want  _ soft talk _ ,” she said with air quotes, “or real talk from me?”

He looked at her sarcastically.

“Real talk?  Real talk is this: you are not going to be able to help your friend until you come to terms with what happened to the both of you.”

“That’s not… that isn’t advice.  That’s ridiculous,” Jonas snapped.  “ _ Nothing _ happened to me.  I don’t need to  _ come to terms _ with anything.  Didn’t you listen to anything I just told you?  This guy raped  _ my friend _ .  He… he didn’t ask him, he just did it.”  He felt tears at his eyes again and he huffed out a breath of frustration.   _ Not again _ .  “He got him alone and he…” 

_ You just hold them down, you shove your cock in, Elias had told him on Sunday night. You just shove it in and stop them fucking whining. _

“He held him down and he didn’t… he didn’t…” 

_ Even if they start crying, it’s just because they’re so desperate for it. _

“He didn’t stop when he cried.  He just kept going.”

_ Believe me, he loved every second. _

“And he made… he made my friend think that he wanted it.  That he deserved it.”

He’d had definitely started to cry now.  He wiped uselessly at his face and  Doctor Skrulle pushed the box of tissues over to him and waited in silence until he’d calmed down slightly.

“So tell me how I help my friend.   _ Please _ .”

“Jonas,” she said simply, “I could tell you but I don’t think you want to hear it.  She sighed softly.  “You are missing a fundamental truth in your thinking.  You told me that this man who did this was your friend.  Yes?  You enjoyed spending time with him?  He gave you drugs, I expect.”  She smiled when he looked at her, wondering how she knew. “And more importantly, he made you feel good about yourself?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“But you see, it is.  Your friend has been through a terrible, terrible thing.  And you are right to be worried that he is repressing it.  But he isn’t the only one repressing his feelings currently.”

She turned to her desk and began to type something on her computer.

“What are you doing?”

“I think you need to work through your own trauma before you are in a position to truly help your friend.  I’m referring you to the school counsellor for -”

“No!” He shot up from his seat, the chair clattering over in the process.  He swore under his breath.  “I’m sorry but that… that  _ isn’t _ why I came.  I just want to know how to make…” he took a breath, remembering where he was, “my friend come to terms with this.   _ He’s  _ the one who needs counselling.   _ He’s  _ the victim here.”

“I understand that.  I am not trying to change the conversation, Jonas.  Your friend needs support and I will be more than ready to give that to him as and when he chooses to open up about it.  But do you see, my hands are tied?  I cannot force some sort of intervention, as we are speaking hypothetically, and I cannot give you a solution because I do not believe you are in a strong enough position to help your friend come to terms with what happened to him.  What I  _ can _ do is recognise that you are currently choosing to deal with these vast, complex emotions in ways that are inadvertently causing you more harm.  And that there are things  _ you _ can do, for yourself, before you try to take on the responsibility of helping someone else.”

Jonas grabbed his bag up, the chair still on its side on the floor.  “I need to go.  Thanks for nothing.”

She looked up at him, leaning back slightly to do so.  “Jonas.  You must understand.  What happened to your friend  _ wasn’t  _ your fault.”

He laughed coldly at that.  “I’ve seen  _ Good Will Hunting  _ too, doc.”

She gazed at him impassively.

“Anyway, I… I made this up.  All of it.  Like I said, it was hypothetical.”  He looked at her testingly, wondering if she would report it anyway.  Finally she sighed, turned back to her computer screen and clicked a button to print something.

“You are entitled to counselling.  It is self-referring, you simply need to come to the medical centre and show them this, and you will be able to book an appointment.  If you choose not to, I will not force this through.”  Her tone turned sharper. “But Jonas? Real talk, remember: you must do this.  If you want to help your friend, help yourself first.”

When he was back in the school corridor, he crumpled the paper in his hand and stopped next to the wastebin.  At the last minute he swallowed tightly and turned away.

He shoved the referral sheet into his pocket and made his way to his next lesson.

 

***

 

“What’s his boyfriend like?” Elias had asked him.  Jonas had needed to consider the question carefully before answering.

“I don’t know.  Alright, I guess?  Pretty basic.”

“You don’t like him,” Elias said.  It wasn’t a question.  “You don’t even know why, but you fucking can’t stand him.”  He’d laughed.

_ You don’t know me _ , Jonas wanted to scream.  “You got me,” he’d replied, shrugging.  “Superficially, there’s nothing wrong with him.  He just… he fucking irritates me.”

“It’s because,” Elias had said, rolling up another joint, “he’s got your property, man.  He fucking  _ stole  _ from you.  Right from under your nose.”  He peered up at Jonas carefully, and Jonas stared back.  He’d gone past the point of anger, of needing to disguise his emotions.  Now he just felt numb.  “Isak was yours, man.  I just… I fucking  _ borrowed _ him.  This… this blonde dude,”  _ I never told you he was blonde _ , Jonas thought, “fucking  _ Even… _ ”  _ I didn’t tell you his name either _ , “he’s made you look like an actual fucking pussy.”

“Well,” Jonas said, reaching out for the joint Elias was proffering, “I suppose that’s the way life goes.”

“But seriously, man, think how fucking…  _ useful _ Isak would be now he’s accepted he’s a cocksucker.  And how this blonde faggot pretty boy is keeping that all to himself?  Like, what the actual  _ fuck _ , man?”  He smiled indulgently at Jonas.  “I know you’ve always had a thing for Isak.  Wanted to fuck him.  You just thought you were being a  _ good best friend _ by not sliding your cock in his mouth.  But he wanted it.  Wanted you to treat him like that.  You just couldn’t see it.”

Jonas held the joint back.  With every word Elias spoke, he felt things shutting down in his brain that he didn’t think he’d ever use again.  _ There goes hope.  There goes empathy.  There goes goodness. _

“We could do something about Even.”  Elias had paused, looked at him.  “I could, I mean.  Wouldn’t want you to get your hands dirty.”

“Like what?”

“Just let me know, the next time you all go to a party or something.  I’ll deal with it.”

Jonas had nodded.  Taken the joint back from Elias.  Inhaled guilt through the roll-up and breathed it back out into the grime of the room.  “I suppose we’ve got a plan, then.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for getting this up later than normal, the ending just wasn't playing nice.
> 
> Thank you so much again for all the lovely comments people are still being ridiculously kind enough to leave. I do appreciate this isn't the easiest fic in the world to read; I know that Jonas's mind is a dark place and to see such a kind friend in canon disappear down this particular rabbit hole is probably not for the faint-hearted. So for those who have stuck with it, who are wondering just how much worse this is going to get for Isak, Even and Jonas... we're almost at the darkness before dawn. It will get worse before it gets better. But... it will get better. Eventually.

The school day finally dragged to a close on Thursday afternoon, and Jonas was one of the first out of his seat.  He’d talked to Isak earlier about doing something after school and his best friend had frowned suspiciously at him, clearly realising he was being served by an escort service he hadn’t commissioned.  His good nature won out in the end, though, and he’d nodded in agreement. “Okay, it would be cool to hang out.”  

Jonas disliked having to follow Even’s instructions, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted to see Isak, to be with him alone; he wanted to try and remind Isak about the fun they used to have as friends, before things had gotten complicated, and this seemed an ideal opportunity to do it.

But of course, the moment that thought registered - _I want this to go well -_ events immediately began to conspire against him.

As he was leaving the classroom his Norwegian teacher called out to him to stay behind.  He considered ignoring her but she was a temperamental type who would inevitably bring it up next lesson so he reluctantly held back, texting Isak: _Wait outside the school for me, I’ll be there soon._

She handed him the assignment he’d turned in at the start of term.  He knew it wasn’t up to his usual standard but he was shocked when he saw the actual score at the bottom.  He looked up at her, blinking in disbelief.  “Seriously?”

“Seriously, Jonas.  Is everything okay?  This isn’t what I’d expect from you.”

He found himself grimacing.  “Everything’s fine.  I just… I had a busy Christmas, that’s all.  I probably didn’t spend as much time on it as I should have done.”

“It’s not simply the assignment.  Your work in class has been… patchy, recently.  Your attention is erratic and I’ve noticed you’re quite short-tempered when you’re working in pairs.”

“Oh.”  He felt himself crumble further under her criticism and he went over the last few lessons in his mind, trying to remember what had happened in them.  It alarmed him that they seemed blank, indistinguishable from one another.  He blinked again, looking back at the scrawls of notes on the paper.

His teacher softened her approach when she saw he was obviously affected by what she was saying.  “I just wanted to check you were okay?  Physically, emotionally?  Is everything okay at home?  And at school?”

“Everything is fine,” he told her with some finality.  Sensing he was doing exactly what she was accusing him of - being short-tempered - he added, “I… you’re right, I’ve been a bit lazy and distracted recently.  It’s not a problem, I can fix it.”

“You’re one of my brightest students, Jonas,” she was saying, but he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he found it difficult to listen to her as he pictured Isak leaving without him. _You need to see Isak_ , his brain was urging him.  He took a breath and forced himself to listen to her.  “You know I’m here, if you wish to talk.  Or you could go to see Doctor Skrulle if -”

“Okay, I get it,” he interrupted her.  “I’ll try harder.  I’ll redo the assignment and if there’s anything else you think I should do again, I can do that too.”

“Well, I could email you some extra resources to go over... ?” she conceded.

“Great.”  He forced his mouth into a smile.  “Can I -” he gestured at the door.  “I really need to go now.”

She nodded reluctantly and he hurried out of the classroom, shoving the assignment into his bag.  He quickly headed for the school exit, reading the text from Isak on the way.

_On the south side. Chris and Eva are going out for pizza.  Do you want to come?_

He swore violently, turned back around and headed for the other entrance.  On his way he texted: _Just wait there_.

He arrived a few minutes later, out of breath and pissed off.  The three of them were standing by Chris’s car, talking good-naturedly.  Chris, he could just about hear, was talking about his new sports apprenticeship; he waved his hands around exaggeratedly, smiling in Isak’s direction as the younger boy laughed at what he was saying.

Eva saw him first and waved; when Isak turned to look he smiled brightly.  Chris was his usual standoff-ish self with Jonas, nodding curtly as he walked over, his hands dropping as the mood shifted.

“Hi,” Jonas said, feeling like a black crowd that had rocked up uninvited to a parade.  “What’s up?”

“We’re just talking about going to this apparently _amazing_ pizza place that Chris knows,” Eva said, rolling her eyes fondly at the handsome older boy.  “Isak is keen on it.  Do you want to come?”

Jonas looked at Chris, who leaned back against his car and raised an eyebrow.  “Um.”  He shrugged.  “Is that something we do?  Me, your ex-boyfriend who you dumped, going out with you and your new boyfriend, who you essentially dumped me for?”

Eva bristled at that, opening her mouth to protest, before Chris jumped in to answer, “If I’m okay with it then you should be.  Let’s be chill, yeah?”

“Well, I’m not.  I’m not okay with it.  Sorry.  I guess I’m not _chill_ enough.”

“Jonas, what’s your problem,” Eva said through gritted teeth.  She shot a loaded look in Isak’s direction; he didn’t notice as he was too busy staring at Jonas with concern.  “Why are you still bothered by something so… so _over_ with?”

 _I’m not.  I’m bothered by Chris standing here flirting with Isak,_ he felt like snapping.  Instead, he shrugged.  “It’s just not something I’m desperate to do right now.”

He looked at Isak, who was standing awkwardly like a child in the middle of a divorce settlement, before walking away.  He was just a few yards away when he heard Isak say, “No, wait, it’s fine, I’m actually not that hungry.  I’ll, um -”

Jonas glanced over his shoulder to see him hugging a pissed off looking Eva - still fuming in Jonas’s general direction - and then awkwardly slapping Chris’s hand in a quick handshake.  “See you guys soon,” he said, before hurrying to catch up with Jonas.  

They could both hear Chris and Eva discussing the situation in hushed, heated voices, but not hushed enough that they couldn’t hear Chris exclaim, “What a petty piece of shit,”.  Isak tensed up beside him as Jonas stopped and turned.

“Jonas,” Isak said quietly, “It’s fine.  Come on.”

Jonas scowled at Chris, then back at Isak, before increasing his pace.  They headed to the bus stop.

When they arrived, he sat down and reached unconsciously for his weed before remembering where he was.  Isak looked at him strangely for a moment, then rearranged his face into a more amenable expression.  “Where shall we go?  Into town, or…?”

He ignored the question.  “Did you actually want to go with those two?”

Isak shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I haven’t spoken to Eva properly in ages.  But… you’re right.  It would have been weird.”

“You put me in that position, though.  Made me look like a dick in front of them.  Real nice, Isak.”

Isak looked taken aback by the accusation.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“Like, _why_ would you think I’d be okay with that?  Are you honestly that incredibly naive? And ignorant?”

“I said sorry,” Isak said, his tone clipped with contrition.  Jonas glanced up to see a lady at the bus stop was staring at them oddly; he took a moment to realise how much of a dick he was acting.  When he looked properly at Isak’s face, eyes downcast in embarrassment, he bit his lip.

“Forget it.  Let’s go for a kebab, okay?”   _Except the last time you went for a kebab he told you he’d fallen for someone who wasn’t you_ .  “No, um, not a kebab,” he added quickly.  Isak stared at him passively.  “Um, what do _you_ fancy?”

“I don’t know.”  Isak gave a small shrug of his shoulders; he looked and sounded like he was scared of getting it wrong, and Jonas realised he was upset.

“You wanted pizza?”

“No. No, I… I’m not even that hungry.”  He brightened up for a moment.  “Why don’t we go to the skate park?  We haven’t done that in ages.”

“I don’t have my board,” Jonas answered.

“We could go back to yours and get it?”

“It’s too far away,” Jonas said simply, ending the discussion.  He hadn’t skated in months and felt no appetite for it anymore.  It reminded him of too many things, of happier times when he’d had his shit together.  Trying to pick it up again would only make him feel like a fraud.

“Okay, Jonas, I -” Isak shrugged.  “If you don’t want to hang out with me, that’s fine.

“What?  No.  I do.  I honestly do.”  Shit, he really didn’t know what he wanted.  Other than to get high.  That was it.  He definitely wanted to get high with Isak.  “Let’s walk to the park, okay?  I need to clear my head.”

He got up again and walked past, the gaze of the woman still on him.  He tilted his head at her defiantly and she looked away.  Isak walked slightly behind him, hands shoved into his pocket.  It was a short walk to the park but the time ticked by awkwardly, neither of them speaking.  

When they arrived, the park was empty.  The cold January weather was keeping people inside their homes for the long, dark evenings.  They found a bench under a street lamp and sat down.  They were both shivering slightly from the cold and Isak brought his legs up, leaning back against the arm of the bench with his arms around his legs.

“Smoke?” Jonas asked.  He pulled his gloves off with his teeth and pulled his skins out, selecting one from the packet.  Isak scrunched his nose up awkwardly.

“I’m trying to give up.”

Jonas snorted.  “Why?”

“Because Even can’t really handle it.  It makes the bipolar… well, I guess it intensifies it.  So we made a new year’s resolution to quit together.”

“Sweet,” Jonas said, with no feeling behind it.  He rolled the joint anyway.  “Bit unfair of him to expect that of you, though.  You’re not the one with bipolar.”

“It was my idea,” Isak said.  He tapped his feet awkwardly on the bench.  “I’d feel like a hypocrite if I was smoking it and telling him not to.”

“But _you’re_ not the one with bipolar,” Jonas said again.  “So why would you feel hypocritical?”  He finished rolling and lit up.  “Seriously, once you start making those types of compromises, your relationship is basically fucked.”

Isak laughed, not sure if he was being serious.  “Um… okay?  I thought that was what relationships were meant to be about?   _Give and take_ , that sort of thing?”

“And what does Even _give_ you, in order for him to take this from you?”

Isak shook his head, unsure how to answer the question.  “I… I don’t know?  It’s not, you know, like-for-like.  He makes me happy.  Isn’t that enough?”

“It doesn’t take much to make you happy,” Jonas said, taking a drag.  He held out the joint to Isak who shook his head, clearly still pondering Jonas’s statement.

“What do you mean?”

“Well.... not to sound shitty, bro, but you’ve been in the closet for years.  Now you’re out, and you’ve got a boyfriend, so of course things are going to seem good in comparison.  But that doesn’t mean that Even is _perfect_ , you know?  You act like he’s the fucking… epicentre of your world.  But he’s just a guy.  The first guy you’ve really been with.  So… you don’t have all that much to compare him to.”

“I don’t - ” Isak looked at him challengingly, “I don’t think he’s _perfect_ , Jonas.  But he’s good.  He’s good for me.  He’s a good person.  He makes me feel safe, he makes me laugh.  I can relax around him.  It’s not like there’s _anyone_ out there who is completely perfect, who will never hurt you or do stupid things.  If you’re going to go around expecting that from your relationships, you’ll never find anyone.”

“And that’s what you think of me? That I’ll never find anyone?” Jonas asked.  Isak’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“No.  No, of course not.  You could get any girl you wanted.”

Jonas turned away from him and took another long drag.

“Jonas, is everything… okay?” Isak asked him carefully.  “Because recently it feels like you’re not very happy.  People are worried.”  He paused.  “ _I’m_ worried.”

“People?” Jonas turned back to him, exhaling fumes in his direction.  “You’ve been talking about me?  Behind my back?”

“What, you didn’t do it to me when I was going through that shit at the start of term?” Isak asked.  Jonas snorted but knew he couldn’t lie.  He’d talked to Magnus and Mahdi pretty much every day about how odd Isak had been acting back then.  “It’s just… you’re snappy, and you’re zoning out of conversations, and…” he added guiltily, “You’ve been looking really tired.”

“Is that code for _you look like shit_?”

Isak looked down, wisely deciding there was no appropriate response for a loaded question like that.

“So who’s been talking about it?” Jonas prompted him after a brief pause.

“Magnus, Mahdi.  Vilde.”

“Vilde?” He laughed coldly.  “Now she gets to judge me, too?”

“Nobody is _judging_ you.  We’re concerned, that’s all.”

“Okay.  You’re concerned.  That’s sweet. But I don’t know what to tell, you, Isak.  Considering that… considering that what’s making me feel this way is the thing _you_ are refusing to admit to yourself.”

Isak looked shocked at this.  “No.  This is _not_ about Elias.  Come on, Jonas, just -”

“It is.  It _is_ about him.”  He looked heatedly at Isak, his voice developing an edge.  “You just get to ignore it, right?  Pretend it didn’t happen.  That’s _easy_ .  We could all go about life pretending the bad stuff didn’t happen.  Denying it.  But for those of us who _aren’t_ little pussies, who actually face up to the bad things in life... yeah, hearing about my best friend getting raped isn’t going to just pass me by without any consequences.  So if I’m feeling like shit?  Well, that _is_ kind of on you.  For leaving me to deal with this on my own.”

He felt the words settle like a frayed blanket over them; he heard Isak’s breath speed up slightly and he took another long drag, the curl of the weed in his stomach soothing his guilt.

“I’m sorry,” Isak said finally.  Some small part of Jonas recognised how screwed up this was; that his best friend _shouldn’t_ be the one apologising when Jonas had, moments before, used Isak’s rape so callously and so easily to make his best friend feel bad.   _You should be apologising_ , he told himself.

“No, it’s not -” He swore under his breath.  “It’s _not_ your fault, okay?  Don’t listen to a fucking word I say.  You said it.  I’m a mess.”

“You’re not.. I didn’t say that,” Isak said.  Jonas looked across at him and tried to smile.

“I went to see the school doctor about it the other day.  About… how I’ve been feeling.  She’s referred me for counselling.”  Isak’s eyes widened at that, before he blinked at Jonas, trying to work out what to say.  “I had to… I had to talk about you.  Not specifically by name, just… what happened to you, and how it’s made me feel, and she said that you should go to see her.”  He let out a breath now, feeling somewhat absolved of the weight of this situation, and Isak paused, trying to process this information.

Finally, he answered, “I… I know you’re frustrated with me.  Because I can’t… I can’t _see_ what you’re seeing.  And I don’t want to keep saying to you, _I’m fine_ , because I know you don’t believe me.  If it… if it helps you, to feel better about everything, if I go to see her?  Then I’ll do it.  I’ll try to… well, I’ll try to understand this.”

Jonas closed his eyes and nodded, allowing the sincerity of Isak’s words to register.  He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and the moment of elation was tempered only by how cold he was, how dark it was here in the park, by Isak’s shivering.  He shifted over and without thinking about it put his arm around Isak, pulling him close.  Isak tensed for a moment; the two of them had never been particularly tactile friends and he was obviously surprised, but eventually he relaxed into it, letting Jonas hold him against his chest.

“You’re freezing,” Jonas said.  “Let’s… let’s just fucking go and _eat_.  Anywhere.”  He looked at his joint, felt Isak - soft, compliant, fragile - in his arms.  “When I’ve finished this,” he added.

Isak nodded, resting his head on Jonas’s shoulder.  

After a time, he heard a phone vibrate, and Isak shifted slightly to check.   _Please don’t be Even_ , he thought to himself.   _Please don’t ruin this moment_  He looked down to read what was on the screen; Vilde was checking about a pre-game tomorrow night.  He looked at Isak questioningly, relaxing his hold slightly.

“You’re going to a party?”

Isak shook his head.  “No, some gay club.  Vilde’s arranged it all.”

“Oh.”  He looked down.  “Do I… do I not get an invite to that?”

Isak frowned at him guilty.  “When we were talking about it at lunch you seemed kind of off so we…”  He stopped, shaking his head. “Forget it, we were being stupid.  Do you want to come?”

“Of course,” he said, pretending to smile.  “I’ll even make an effort to smarten myself up.  Gotta compete with those well-dressed gays,” he said playfully.  Isak laughed, relieved that Jonas hadn’t chosen to be offended, and Jonas pulled him close again, taking another long drag.

Eventually the stub of the joint began to burn his fingers and he dropped it to the floor, scuffing his shoe against it.  “Okay?  Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Isak said.  His voice was soft, almost wistful.   _Does he want to stay like this for longer_ , Jonas wondered.   _Is he trying to tell me something?_ Sometimes he let himself believe that Isak would never truly stop loving him, that Jonas was his first love, and therefore the most important one; the one that formed all of his other perceptions of love.  Other times it felt hopeless, like Isak’s feelings for Jonas had been a mere stepping stone to a higher, happier state of existence for him.

Now, though, he honestly wondered whether Isak loved Even at all.  Was it all just an act?  A way to spare himself the heartbreak of thinking Jonas didn’t want him?

 _He belongs to you_ , he heard Elias say, the slow drawl of his voice in his head.   _He’s yours and you can take him back._

He reached forward and tilted Isak’s head up.  “Are you sure?” he asked.  Isak looked at him questioningly but he didn’t try to pull away.  And Jonas could see his lips parting slightly, could feel the heat of Isak’s cheeks a fraction of an inch against his own.  He closed that tiny distance, pressed his lips against Isak’s, waited to be pushed away; when he didn’t feel it he pushed his tongue into Isak’s mouth, his hands coming down to his hips, trying to get the blonde boy to respond; he teased his lips softly with his teeth, wondering if Isak was just shy, whether if he made this good enough he’d start to open up.  His hands travelled down to the curve of Isak’s arse, trying to pull him closer; he felt like he wanted no space between them whatsoever.

But in the next second he was contactless.  Isak had shot up from the bench, stumbling over his own feet to take a few steps back.  Jonas stared at him, frozen, expecting to be yelled at, or at the very least laughed at.  He waited in humiliated anticipation, his mind whirring through excuses, ways he could talk himself out of this.  

And as he started to say, “Isak, look, that wasn’t -”, he was cut off by Isak falling to his knees, pressing his arms to his stomach and heaving out a series of dry, laboured sobs that sounded like he was being choked.

Jonas watched, horrified, realising with instant clarity what was happening.  He stood up, taking a couple of steps forward, and Isak continued to make small, frantic noises as Jonas knelt in front of him, bringing his hands up to the side of his face.

“Stop, Isak, please… you’re scaring me.”

He realised Isak was trying to say something in between the gasping sobs.  “ _Sorry, I’m sorry_.”  Jonas shook his head, not wanting to hear this, not wanting to understand what this meant.  He pulled Isak closer to him but Isak’s breath shivered out the words in his ear; in isolation, he sounded like he had been stabbed, like he was trying to make sudden and urgent sense of tremendous and unexpected pain.

“Isak, you need to stop.  You need to look at me,” he urged him.  He pulled off Isak’s snapback, letting it drop to the floor so he could grab his hair and pull his face closer.  “Isak, look at me.  Please.”

Isak was nodding - Jonas wasn’t sure if it was in relation to him or if it was a convulsive action - as he desperately tried to take in oxygen.   When he tried to lunge away from Jonas, Jonas held on firmly.  “Isak, please, I don’t know how to help you.  Show me.  Show me how to help you.”

It wasn’t working.  Isak’s dry, retching sobs continued to flood the air and Jonas eventually realised he wasn’t helping, wasn’t doing him any good whatsoever.  He let go of Isak’s hair and stood up, retreating a few steps.

He listened, his back turned and his eyes closed, as Isak’s gasps eventually plateaued into shorter, raspier, breaths.  He heard Isak counting through his gulps of breath and he remembered what Chris had told him.   _Count down from three.  Focus on the surroundings._  Something like humiliation burned in the pit of his stomach.  This was his fault.  This was all his fault.  And he hadn’t known how to help.

Jonas wasn’t sure how much time passed before Isak’s breathing dropped to another, almost passably normal level.  He wondered whether to say anything, to try and make physical contact again now the worst had passed.  He longed to hold Isak close and tell him it would be okay, but he genuinely feared setting off another attack, and he cut himself off from the possibility.

“I’m sorry,” Isak said eventually.  Jonas turned to see him standing awkwardly, arms wrapped around himself as he shivered.  His hat was back on his head.  “That was stupid.  So stupid...”

Jonas shook his head, trying to clear it from the smog of the weed that had settled back into his brain now the threat of Isak’s panic attack had passed.  “You don’t need to apologise for… for having those.  You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Isak paused at that, and let out a small, wry laugh.  “I’ve done everything wrong.”

Jonas raised a questioning eyebrow.  “No.  You haven’t.  In what way?  Because you have panic attacks?  That isn’t stupid, that’s serious, Isak.  That’s - ”

“Not the panic attack!” Isak interrupted him, looking shocked by his own outburst.  “That’s… that’s not what I…” he shook his head rapidly, as if trying to clear it.  “I’m sorry for… for before that.  The kiss.”

“That was me, though?  That wasn’t you.”

“You wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t so…” He looked like he was going to say something, then shrugged frustratedly, as if trying to rethink.  “If I hadn’t given you those signals, you wouldn’t have touched me.”

It was Elias talking.  It had been Elias talking that day when Jonas and Even had confronted Isak at Jonas’s house, when he’d blankly called himself a slut as if he was casually attributing a run-of-the-mill character trait to himself, and Jonas could hear it again now: Elias’s words embedded in Isak’s psyche, whispering putrid lies into his ear.

“That isn’t true,” he said.  “That’s not why I kissed you.”

Isak shook his head, trying to rid himself of doubt.  “You just don’t want to see it because you’re my friend.”

“I don’t want to _be_ your friend,” Jonas said.  Isak took a step back, looking panicked, and Jonas realised how that sounded.  “No, I’m not… I’m not saying that I don’t want you in my life, Isak.  I’m trying to explain to you, pretty terribly, apparently, that I… I don’t think of you as a friend, a lot of the time.  I want more than that.  I...” He swallowed painfully.  “I love you.”

He could see Isak trying to register and make sense of the words.  He waited, heart pounding in his chest, for him to respond: however he did respond, it was out in the open now.  He couldn’t take it back and he knew he didn’t want to.  The rush he’d felt saying it was liberating.

“You don’t,” Isak said eventually.  He shook his head.   _You’re not denying this_ .  “You don’t.  You _don’t_ , Jonas,” he repeated, raising his voice, as though he could impose the force of his will if he said it loud enough.

“Why don’t you believe me?” Jonas asked, raising his own voice to match Isak’s.  “I’ve loved you for years.  I just couldn’t admit it to myself.  Or to you.  I was an idiot and I kept quiet when really I should have been telling you every day.”

Isak squeezed his eyes together as if he was trying to make himself disappear through sheer focus and concentration alone.  With his eyes still shut, he asked, “Do you remember what you said to me, the night after the Yakuza fight?”

Jonas frowned.  Not quite the way he’d expected the conversation to tangent off on.  “I… uh, probably said a lot of things that night, Isak.”

“Just before you fell asleep, then?  Do you remember that?”

He remembered next to nothing from that night.  He remembered alcohol burning his throat, bloodlust in his head, Isak’s prettiness undoing him until he’d felt sick with himself, with the world.  Specific words and actions were a blur.

“No.  Probably not.”

“Well, then I’ll tell you.  You asked me if I’d… if I’d sucked Chris off.  And I told you no.  And as you fell asleep, you told me that it was good, that you were glad, because you wouldn’t care about me if I was a slut.”  He blinked away tears.  “And that’s a problem, isn’t it?  I might not have sucked Chris off, but I would have done if he’d asked me.  I haven’t ever sucked you off but I would have done, if you asked me.  I did it with Elias, and I do it with Even most days.  I let him fuck me, too.”  His eyes were open now and he was trying to smile, to mask his pain.  “And I really enjoy it.  I love the way it feels when he’s inside me.  I enjoy it because I’m a slut..”

“Stop… stop saying that,” Jonas said.  His head pounded: he wasn’t sure if it was the word itself or the references to Even that were upsetting him.  He felt like slapping Isak, just to stop him; he actually lifted his hand up to do it and then realised what the fuck he was doing.   _This is your best friend.  This is Isak_ , he told himself.  If Isak noticed, he didn’t seem troubled, and that should have been far more disturbing than it seemed to Jonas in that moment.

Eventually, Isak reached down and picked up his rucksack, shouldering it.  “You don’t love me, Jonas, because you _know_ me.  I’m dirty.  You can see it, and Elias could see it.”

 _I'm not like him_ , he wanted to say.   _I don’t think of you like that._  Instead, he bitterly asked,  “And Even?  Can _he_ see it?”

“When I’m with Even, I don’t… I don’t feel it.  I feel _better_.  Like, I can be a good person around him.”

 _I make you feel like a slut_ , Jonas realised.   _I make you feel dirty.  I look at you and talk to you in a way that confirms all your worst fears about yourself.  Just like Elias did.  Just like Even doesn’t._

He hadn’t realised, had never realised, what he had done.  He’d never worked out that Isak had slipped through his fingers, not naturally, but because of the hurricane that circled around Jonas’s warped ideas about sexuality.  Finally he began to see why Isak had made that decision to distance himself from Jonas’s path of destruction, but the realisation didn’t lead to acceptance, or even sorrow: instead he felt angry, with himself, with Elias, certainly, but most of all at Even for fitting in so seamlessly to Isak’s life, for knowing exactly what to say and how to act to make the younger boy feel valued.

Hatred burned him through and left him an empty husk.  He wouldn’t ever be whole again if he couldn’t have Isak.  He was sure of it.

He tried to approach Isak, to pull him into a hug: one last attempt to bridge the gap with actions because he couldn’t find the words, but the moment he got too close, Isak stepped back, his eyes wide with terror.  He was shivering continuously, his skin was translucent in the lamp light, and he looked as though he could collapse, or succumb to another panic attack, within seconds.  

“I’m sorry, I’m not mad at you or anything, I’m just… I just want to go home.  Can we go home?”

Jonas nodded.  They couldn’t continue this push-and-pull.  Not tonight.

They made their way back to Isak’s.  They didn’t speak once, and Jonas checked his phone as they sat on the bus next to one another, frozen through from the cold.

Eva had sent him a text not long after he had stormed off.   _We were trying to do that for Isak you dickhead. What is your problem?_

She’d sent another one later.   _Chris is fucking furious with you, thanks a lot for making everything ten times more awkward and difficult._

And then there was one from Elias.   _Any news on when?_

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, realising Isak could have seen the message if he looked down. But Isak seemed to be a hundred miles away, his head resting against the window as the bus brought them closer to home.

When they reached the stop, he followed his best friend, knowing the chances of Isak getting jumped by a vengeful Elias in the space between here and home were beyond minute, but not wanting to fuck this one thing up.  Isak finally seemed to pull himself from his daze and smiled shyly at him.

“Weird evening, huh?”  His lips were pale from the cold and Jonas wanted to lean forward and cover them again, despite the events of the last hour acting as a clear warning sign that kissing Isak could only lead to bad things.

They walked the short walk to Isak’s building.  “Do you want to come in?” Isak asked as they approached.  “We could have some food?  It’s probably halfway warm in there, if someone remembered to turn the heating on.”

“No.  It’s fine.  I should get home.”  He thought about the assignment he needed to redo, groaning inwardly at the thought.

“Okay, well.” Isak looked at him and smiled sadly.  “If you’re sure.”

Jonas grabbed his wrist before he could walk away.  Isak looked down, confused, then met Jonas’s gaze.

“I meant it.  What I said.  I don’t see you as… as a _slut_.  That word is disgusting and if I ever used it about you, I’m sorry.  I think you’re perfect.”  He brought his hand up and used the back of his fingers to trace Isak’s cheekbone.  “Sometimes I think you’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

Isak looked like a rabbit in headlights.  He pulled away gently.  “Don’t,” he said.  “Don’t do this.”

“Yes, Jonas, _don’t_ ,” said a voice from behind them.  They both turned, horrified, to see Even standing there.  He was looking at Jonas, his voice low and clipped, his eyes flashing indecipherably.  “Can you...” he made a shooing gesture, “get away from my boy?”

“Even, what are you -”

“I came to see you.  I wanted to see you after my check-up.”  The older boy leant down and brushed his lips against Isak’s.  “Fuck, baby, why are you so cold?”  He shot a look at Jonas, who was still standing in mute, petrified horror.  “And why do you look so pale?  Have you eaten?”

“I’m fine.  We…”

“We got high,” Jonas said.  “We’ve just been skating at the park and smoking and... I’m sorry.  It was my idea.”

Even looked at him, then back to Isak who realised the alternatives were to come up with a lie himself or tell the truth.  He nodded briefly.

“So… you’re stoned right now?” he asked.  Isak nodded again, and gave a wide, slightly vacant smile.

“Well, that explains the…” He held his hand up to stoke Jonas’s face mockingly; Jonas pulled away, humiliated.  “That stuff.  I guess.”  He smiled.  Jonas knew he didn’t believe a word of it.  “Anyway, shall we go in?  Get you warmed up?” he said to Isak, the last part a suggestive whisper, still loud enough for Jonas to hear.

Isak nodded, clearly embarrassed, and Even swung the door open, gesturing for his boyfriend to go first.

“See you tomorrow,” Isak said as he passed him.  He looked worried but Jonas knew there was nothing for him to be worried about.  Even had clearly seen Isak rejecting his advances.  His _advances_.  Fuck.  He really was a mess.  What had he been thinking, doing this outside of Isak’s home?

He watched them go inside and he began to walk back to the bus stop, beyond cold and miserable with it now.  As he waited, a message came through: he wasn’t surprised to see it was from Even.

_Reasons I didn’t kill you: 1. Isak was there. Literally thats it.  That’s the reason.  If you touch him again, if you mess with his head again, I won’t give a shit if he’s there next time.  Oh and deleting my message off his phone? Are we in an update of Othello or something?  Stay away from him if you cant get your shit under control and stop fucking pushing me Jonas._

When Jonas arrived home, he went straight to his room without saying hello to anyone in his family, though they were all sat together watching TV.  He automatically went for the drawer next to his bed, pulling out packets and bottles until he found the strongest anxiety ones; the ones that made him feel nothing, in the best possible way.

He took three and as he waited for them to kick in, he pulled out his phone and replied to Elias’s message.

_Tomorrow night.  Will text you to let you know when/where._

He hit send and crawled under the covers of his bed.

  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're going to hate me when you get to the end of this chapter. You genuinely will. But it was already SO LONG AND I HAD TO CUT IT OFF AT SOME POINT *sobs* I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
> 
> Warnings: A consensual semi-explicit sexual act.

The dizziness began in Politics on Friday morning.  Jonas had woken up feeling groggy and taken some energy pills to tide him over, and then he’d popped two Xanax as he’d rode his bike to school, trying to calm down his nerves over facing another school day - and inevitably, facing Even and Isak within it.  

A tightness appeared at his chest which he ignored; by mid-morning that was the least of his issues.  The room seemed to lower and spin around him; he wondered if his head was moving or whether it just _felt_ like it was going to hit the floor at any moment.  He gripped the edge of the table and blinked, trying to focus on what the teacher was saying.  He wasn’t even sure what the topic for today’s lesson was.

He made a decision to leave the classroom, ignoring the curious eyes following him, and headed down to the end of the corridor where a water cooler was situated.

It was empty.  He couldn’t even begin to think where the closest one was.  He eased himself into the space between the cooler and a classroom door and brought his legs up, resting his head carefully.

He wasn’t sure how long he was there for.  Students walked past but mostly ignored him; somebody said hello and he managed a quick wave in response.

And then someone walked directly over to him; he saw their feet and raised his eyes upwards; the lean, tall body of Even loomed over him and he wished he hadn’t looked.

The older boy whistled lowly when he took in his face.  “Well.  You look like shit,” he observed.  Despite his spinning head, Jonas found it within him to scowl.

“I just needed some water,” he said.  Fuck, that must have sounded pathetic.  Even looked at the water cooler beside him, then back to Jonas, before he sighed, irritated.

“Okay, let’s -” Even rolled his eyes heavenward, as though he _really_ didn’t want to have to do this, and reached down to pull Jonas up by the wrists.  He guided him by the shoulder into the empty classroom next to them   Pulling out a chair, Even indicated for him to sit down, and Jonas slumped into it.

“Just… wait there,” the older boy said said.  He disappeared and Jonas tried not to think about how weird this all was, because if he did that he had a feeling he’d get up and walk away and risk angering Even further still.

Eventually he returned, brandishing a bottle of water from the vending machine.  He handed it to Jonas who opened it and gulped it down eagerly.

“Better?” Even asked when the bottle was half empty.  Jonas nodded, though he wasn’t, not really, and put the bottle down on the table in front of him.  “So you’re ready to talk?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well I’m telling you.  It’s time to talk.”

“And I’m telling _you_.  I have nothing to say to you.”

“You don’t?  Really?” Even looked amused by that.  “So you try to steal my boyfriend out from under my nose but you haven’t even got the balls to discuss it when you’re caught?”

“I’m not trying to _steal_ him.  He isn’t an object to _steal_ ,” Jonas said, attempting to wipe the smirk off of that handsome face.  But Even raised an eyebrow at him, and the smirk simply increased.  

“Really, Jonas?  Are you going to try and get all socially woke on me when you’re busy acting like a stage three clinger with someone in a happy relationship?”

Jonas tried to bite back at this but had no purchase to do so; he looked away, though moving his head too fast caused his vision to blur and sharpen again.  He wondered what Even would do if he passed out on him.   _Probably leave you, and kick  for good measure on the way._

“He told me,” Even continued, “that you tried to kiss him.  He was a mess, Jonas.  He thought it was _his_ fault, but he couldn’t tell me how, or what he’d done, only that he must have done _something_ to make you act like that.”  His face was completely serious now; he was clearly done with niceties.  “Can’t you see how unfair you’re being?  He’s… he’s so twisted up about Elias, he honestly doesn’t understand anything about boundaries.”

“And yet _you’re_ still with him.  Having sex with him.  How do I know _you_ haven’t taken advantage?” Jonas asked, meaning every word of it.  Sometimes he thought about how vulnerable Isak really was in the relationship; it was easy to convince himself that Even bullied him every day into sex, though he knew from what he’d seen at the New Year’s Eve party that those fears were irrational.

“That isn’t comparable.  I had _no_ idea about this when I got into a relationship with him.”

“You do now!” Jonas said, raising his voice as he ignored the pounding in his head.  “You know now so you should… you should fucking _leave_ him alone.”  He slumped forward in his chair, resting his head in his hands.  “It’s not fair.  None of this is fair.  But I don’t get why _you_ can tell me I’m no good for him, while you get to…” he rubbed at his eyes, “...get to be with him.”

Even walked round to the front of the table and crouched down, so he was staring up at Jonas.  It looked like he was consciously controlling every part of him to remain reasonable.  “I’m not saying you aren’t good for him,” he said, his tone softer.  “Jonas, this is… this is _hard_ .  I have no point of reference here.  I’m just trying to get through this absolute fucking… mess.  But I see it like this: you’re his best friend, and he needs you to be that right now.  And I’m his boyfriend and I am _not_ fucking leaving him because you want me to.  I know what he needs from me, even if you want to believe I’m taking advantage.  So,” he grabbed Jonas’s wrist tightly to check he was still listening, “we’re just going to have to grit this out until he’s had some help for his problems.  And after that… if you want to try and steal him from me?  I won’t stop you.”  

He raised an eyebrow and Jonas thought he was being serious with the last statement: he opened his mouth to sound out a noise of incredulity when Even smiled and removed his hand, springing back up to his feet.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t _actually_ think you’re capable of stealing him.  No offence, man, but you’re kind of a downgrade.”

Jonas set his mouth in a thin line, trying not to look bothered by this sting, and Even laughed easily.  “Oh come on, Jonas, let me roast you a bit.  You literally tried to make moves on him _in front of me_ .  I should be fucking _ending_ you right now.”

“Okay,” Jonas said, rolling his eyes.  “Fair point.”

And he… kind of _meant_ it?  

More than that: he realised that he wasn’t actually angry with Even right now, even though he was essentially being told to stay in his lane.  Hours before it would have been enough to send him into a tailspin, but now?  For whatever reason, he found himself coming to the conclusion that Even was right.  The last thing Isak needed right now was this _male bravado bullshit._

He thought about Isak, about how shattered he would be to lose Even.  He thought about the stupid, stupid plan: blood on the floor, police sirens whirring around them.  He had lost sight of Isak in this.  Isak, crying in his arms, blaming himself.  It would destroy him.

He stood up, studiously ignoring the dizziness he still felt, and held out his hand.  “I’m not going to stop having feelings for Isak,” he told Even.  “But I understand what you’re saying.  I’ll try to do better by him.”

Even looked down at the extended hand and sighed, taking a step back.  “I don’t think we’re there yet, Jonas.  Let’s agree to tolerate each other for now? And seriously, man, go see the nurse.  You look an absolute mess.”

Jonas watched him leave the classroom.  He sat down and tried to work out where this left him.  

_Empty.  It leaves you empty._

He pulled out his phone, blinking as he tried to focus on the screen.  Four messages from Elias, and a missed call.

_Any update yet?_

_Is it going to be a party or what?  Wheres it going to be?_

_Is Even def going to be there? Is Isak going to be there too?_

_Can you fucking reply i need to know_

He wasn’t so out of it that he didn’t recognise a warning signal when it was sounding in between his hands.  He typed _It’s off. Stay away from Even. Fuck off from my life._

He pressed send, before blocking Elias’s number from his phone.

His stomach had begun to churn uneasily at some point in the last five minutes and so he headed out of the classroom and straight to the toilets where he expelled the contents of his stomach into the sink, not making it to the cubicle in time.

He felt better once it was out.  Less dizzy and unfocused.  But his body wouldn’t be happy with nothing in his system so he rooted through his bag and pulled out a half-used packet of… _something_.  He wasn’t even sure what at this point, but he was aware they were more uppers than downers.  He swallowed two.

He headed to Norwegian where he managed to produce some decent work; he showed his teacher who marked it on the spot and smiled at him, telling him there were some wonderful ideas in there.  He basked in the praise.

In the afternoon, he had a free study period.  Sometimes he hung around for lunch, to spend time with his friends, but today he wanted to go home and rest.  He wasn’t sure if he would go with them to the club tonight, or just turn up to the pre-game, or neither, but he figured he would make a snap decision when he woke up.

As he rode his bike home he found himself smiling.  Not smiling, beaming.   _Things were going to be okay._ He was going to help Isak, and that would make everything else fall into place in the end.  The world had a natural order; there was purpose that he wasn’t aware of, but it pierced every action he made.  Even got it, even if he hated Jonas, even if Jonas hated him back.  They were locked together in their hate because they both loved Isak so much.  It was perfect symmetry and Jonas had been a fool to not notice it earlier.

He didn’t need to take pills to fall asleep.  He was naturally tired, physically and mentally, for the first time in weeks.

And it felt amazing.

 

***

 

Elias had once explained to him how he used the internet to keep tabs on his ‘empire’.  That’s what he described his drug pushing as - an ‘empire’ - though he was the only one in it, apart from his own suppliers, who he was terrified of, even if he never admitted that out loud to Jonas; even though he mainly sold drugs to bored school kids who feared him in no way, shape or form.

“Instagram and Snapchat are best,” Elias had told him.  “That’s where your typical douchey hipster kids like to post about parties.  No offence, bro.”

Jonas had laughed, watching the smoke fumes from the joint he was inhaling curl up to the ceiling.

“You can always tell the type.  Little rich bitches holding a bottle of champagne and pouting into the camera.   _Big night out_ , that shit.  Once you start messaging them and saying, _“Oh, I know your friend, she told me you’re always up for a party,”_   they can’t resist hitting you up.”

“So you just sell to girls?”

“Nah.  Once I’m at the party it’s usually the guys that are sniffing round.  Like you, man,” he’d laughed, referring to their first meeting.  

“I didn’t _sniff round_ , you approached me when I was sweet and innocent,” Jonas had protested jokingly.

“However you want to play it.  Guys will approach you once they know who you are, no problem.  Girls normally need a bit more persuasion.”  He shrugged.  “Twitter’s okay.  Harder to find what you need, sometimes, but they think they’re untouchable on there so they’re more likely to spill.  The Basics, though, they go on Facebook.  They’re the most fun.  You know you’ve got a Basic when they come shuffling over to you, mumbling under their breath about how they’ve heard from a friend-of-a-friend about the good shit you’re selling.  They’re the ones who usually get hooked, too.  Fucking idiots.  Plus, once you start getting put onto those Facebook events, you know _exactly_ who's going to be there and who’s likely to buy.”

“So you spend all your time online, stalking school kids to find out what parties are happening?”

“Nah, not _all_ my time.”  Jonas looked across at him and raised an eyebrow.  “I spend the rest of it jerking off to their pictures.”

“You’re _such_ a creep,” Jonas had replied, laughing.  “Fuck you, bro.”

 

***

 

It was dark outside when he woke up. He immediately checked his phone and saw it was already past 7pm.  He groaned, rolling over, and pulled the covers down to his waist.  He felt gross: hot and clammy and dying for water.   _Is this what dying feels like_ , he wondered.

He stumbled down to the kitchen, turning on lights as he went.  Everyone was out, and he took advantage of the emptiness of the house to sit in the kitchen, shivering through and waiting for the roughness of waking up to pass as he sipped from a pint glass.

His stomach rumbled but he feared that if he ate he would throw it up again, so he ignored the cravings and unlocked his phone.  There were messages from Isak and Magnus wondering if he was coming tonight.  None from Elias.   _Because you blocked him_ , he remembered.  He felt a sinking feeling at that, a niggling sense of awareness that maybe he should be worried, but it was easier to push those fears down and so he did just that.

He opened the first message from Magnus.   _Isak said you might be coming tonight?  Mahdi’s bailed, Help a straight dude out here. xx_

Smiling, he replied, _Only if you promise not to suck face with Vilde all night and leave me hanging by myself._

A message popped up from him a few seconds later.   _Did you… did you want me to suck your face instead?_ Followed by several screaming emjois.

 _When in Rome…_ he texted back.

He checked Isak’s message, which was short and sweet: _I hope you can come tonight. :)_

He replied: _What time do the pre drinks start?_

He went up to the bathroom, had a long shower and began to feel halfway normal again.  When he got back to his bedroom, he had two more notifications - a message from Isak telling him that it was any time after eight but there was no rush, they wouldn’t be going to the club til after ten.  And a message sent via Instagram from Elias.

_What the fuck is going on?_

He debated whether to answer or ignore it.  He pictured Elias - sad, druggy loser Elias - sat at home going out of his mind with annoyance, and though it was petty he took some amusement from it.  He hit block on his profile and flung the phone on his bed as he got dressed.

 _Make an effort_ , he told himself.   _Make them see you’re happy, that you’re okay._ He selected a fitted white t-shirt that he normally dismissed as too tight, a printed green shirt over the top which he left undone, and a pair of dark grey jeans that had fit well the last time he’d worn them but now sat worryingly low on his hips.  Wow, he needed to eat more.  He looped a belt - Isak’s belt - through the top and hitched them back up.

When he he looked in the mirror he decided he looked okay.  The sleep had done him some good, as had the sheer amount of water he’d drunk today, and the dark circles under his eyes were almost unnoticeable in the lamp light of his room.  He pulled on some leather boots and ran a hand through his hair.

 _You can do this_ , he told himself.  Before he left, he hunted through his drawer and realised the last time he’d been at Elias’s, he’d bought a packet of MDMA from him.  He hesitated for a moment, wondering whether it was a good idea.  But Jesus… how much did he need to get off his face tonight?  To forget _everything_ that happened these last few weeks and just be… _happy_.  Content.  Alive.

He pocketed them and headed out.

 

***

 

When he arrived at Isak’s, the door was ajar and riotous laughter was drifting down from the living room.  He slipped his shoes off and walked through.  He always felt slightly overwhelmed when he walked in sober to a room full of drunk people, but it was a small group tonight: Isak, Vilde and Magnus, Eskild, Noora and Eva.  No Even yet.  They were sat around on sofas; dance music played in the background but it wasn’t a party when this amount of people were involved.  More like a gathering.  It made Jonas feel slightly more at ease.

He greeted Eskild with a handshake, nodded in greeting at Noora and Eva - the latter of whom scowled at him before rolling her eyes and finally, reluctantly, when he held her gaze with a good-natured smile, gave in and smiled in return.  He hugged Magnus, ruffled Vilde’s hair, causing her to squeal in annoyance, and sat down next to Isak who was texting.  The blonde boy smiled briefly at him before returning to his phone.

“Hey,” he said.  “What are we drinking?”

“What did you _bring_?” Eskild asked pointedly.  “Or are you just here to steal our alcohol?”

“I’m _always_ here to steal your alcohol,” Jonas replied.  “Wow, is that rum?”

“You are _not_ wowing over rum.  You are simply asking if you can have some rum,” Eskild said, then followed with a dramatic flourish, “and the answer is yes, so long as you pour me some more.”

As Jonas mixed rum with some of the cola on the table into cheap plastic cups, Isak looked up, sighing.  “He still isn’t replying.”

“Oh for goodness’ sake, child, he’ll be here soon,” Eskild told him impatiently.  Jonas turned to look properly at Isak.

“Even?  You can’t get hold of him?”

“He texted me to say he was running late but he’d be leaving his place soon.  That was… an hour ago?  He hasn’t replied since then.”

And there was that creeping feeling again, working its way up from his stomach and into his chest.   _If Elias knows where Isak lives, it’s not a stretch to assume he’s found out where Even lives._

“Have you tried ringing him?”

“Do you think I should?”

“Jonas!” Noora looked at him, pulling a mock-angry face.  “You’re not helping with the whole _Isak needs to stop worrying_ thing.  Even is late to everything.”  She flicked her pretty blonde hair from her face and huffed fondly at Isak.  “Look at him; look at that face!  We’re meant to be protecting him from this kind of stress.”

“It was just a suggestion,” Jonas said, holding his hands up in surrender.   _They have no reason to think anything is wrong_ , he told himself.  “I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” he told Isak.

They drank some more.  At one point, on Vilde and Eva’s suggestion, with Eskild cheerleading from the sides, it genuinely looked like they were going to play spin the bottle.  Jonas made himself laugh, one hand remained curled around his phone, and half-heartedly protested with Isak and Magnus.  

They drank more, and Eskild changed the music for something ‘more gay’.  He began dancing with the girls.  Eventually, and perhaps inevitably, Magnus got pulled into it, and Isak and Jonas were left on the sofa, able to talk freely without being listened to.

“Should I ring him?” Isak asked, in a hushed tone.  Jonas nodded.

“Just do it, bro.  You’ll only worry if you don’t.”

Isak nodded and stood up, heading out to the hallway where it was quieter.  He was dressed in a sleeveless black t-shirt and skinny jeans, his hair falling into his eyes, and he looked _ridiculously_ beautiful.  Jonas wanted to pull him back, to kiss him then and there.  Instead, he followed him out, and listened as the phone rang once, twice, before they heard it outside the front door.  Isak blinked, looked round at Jonas, and then headed down the hall towards it.

Even stood on the other side, a large smile on his face as he ended the call.  “Answer your messages, jerk!” Isak told him, punching his shoulder, while simultaneously nestling into his chest for a hug.  Even looked pointedly at Jonas, who was still hovering awkwardly nearby, and pressed a kiss against Isak’s hair.

“I lost track of time.”  He pushed Isak away slightly so he could look down at him, and he whistled, long and low.  “Wow, you look edible.”

“ _Edible_?”  Isak looked offended.  “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Like, I could fucking eat you right now.”  He looked at Jonas again.  “If we weren’t being watched by your bodyguard over there.”

Jonas flushed, and walked back into the living room as he heard Even laughing and Isak lowering his voice to tell him off.  He slumped on the sofa, watching his drunk friends and friends-of-friends become even more drunk.  Isak came back in a moment later, and was immediately pulled into the fray by a demanding Eskild.

Jonas felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.  He looked down at it and frowned.  Even was texting him to come into Isak’s room.

He slipped back out of the living room, unnoticed, and headed for his best friend’s room.  Even was pacing when he came in.  He gestured for him to shut the door.

“I was fucking stopped by _Elias_ ,” he said immediately, his voice an angry whisper.  Jonas stared at him dumbly.  “Did you hear me, Jonas?  He fucking _accosted_ me on my way from the bus stop.”

Jonas blinked, his mouth open and no sound coming out.   _Elias?  Elias had… oh God.  Elias’s plan.  He’d gone ahead with it.  He’d got to Even._

But Even was... fine?  His handsome face was unmarked, he wasn’t struggling to walk.  So what had happened?

 _He told Even all about you_ , his brain suggested helpfully.  He tried to shut himself up.

“What… what did he do?”

“We can’t stay in here for too long, they’ll get suspicious,” Even said, glancing at the door.  Screams and shrieks of laughter from the living room pierced the silence of the bedroom; someone was yelling about glitter, of all things.  “So, really quickly: he stopped me, he told me he knew who I was.  I looked at him, I kind of… I guess I had a feeling, and he told me his name.  He said that he knew Isak.  No, he fucking… fucking _leered_ it.  Said that I should know about him.”  He began to pace again, obviously pumped full of energy from the encounter.  “He told me that Isak wasn’t innocent, that if that’s what I thought I’d signed up for, I’d been deceived.  He said that he’d had a reputation in first year for getting on his knees for anyone who asked.”

“And you just listened?”  Despite himself, despite the worry, Jonas felt angry about this, about Even’s lack of action.  How had he not _killed_ Elias?

“Because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.  I _laughed_ at him instead.  And I told him honestly what I thought about him.  That he was a sad, _sad_ little druggy that nobody liked or respected.  That even at Nissen, the people he sells to think he’s leech and a loser.”

“Did you talk about Isak?”

“Yes.  He told me that all that might be true, but my boyfriend was still a little slut. So I told _him_ that Isak didn’t talk about him, couldn’t even remember who he was when you brought him up a few weeks ago.”

“I assume he didn’t like that?” Jonas asked.  He knew Elias.  He knew the only thing that pissed him off more than rejection was the feeling of irrelevance that so many of the students at Nissen associated him with.

“No, he wasn’t happy.  He tried to hit me but I hit him first.  Right across the face.  I assumed he’s got a broken nose to show for it.”

Jonas couldn’t help but smirk at that.  Even smiled, seemingly encouraged.  Jonas realised he was trying to calm himself down, to talk this through with the only person who he could talk it through _with_ , in a bid to prove to himself he’d handled Elias correctly.

“So we’re good, I think.  I can’t see him bothering us again,” Even concluded with some confidence.

 _Elias is obsessed with Isak.  That isn’t how this works_ , Jonas thought.  But Even didn’t know the full extent of Elias’s obsession: he didn’t know about the things that Elias had said to Jonas last Sunday as they smoked the strongest hash he’d ever smoked. He hadn’t heard Elias describe the things he’d do to Isak once they got Even _‘out of the way’_.

And Jonas wasn't able to share _any_ of that.

So he shrugged, and said, “You’re right, but… let’s stay fairly alert, for the time being.”

“We need to go.  Eskild’s going to think we’re having an affair behind Isak’s back,” Even said, before laughing, genuinely amused by the thought.  “I’ll go out first.  Wait a minute, so it’s not so obvious.”

Jonas waited, listening to the ticking of a clock somewhere in the room.   _Everything is okay_ , he told himself.   _Everyone is here.  Everyone is safe._

He checked his phone.  No messages.  Elias hadn’t found another way to contact him.

He dared to let himself believe it was over.  That Even - cool, confident, self-assured Even - had handled it like he’d said he’d handled it.   _I can’t see him bothering us again_.

If it was good enough for Even, it had to be good enough for Jonas.

 

***

 

They were stupid with alcohol by the time they left for the club.  Jonas, along with Even, was the most sober out of them, and that was a strange and unwelcome feeling that he needed to rectify.  He discreetly swigged from a bottle of vodka as they walked through central Oslo to the seedier reaches of clubland, warmed through from Eva snuggling into him

“I don’t hate you,” she was explaining.  Glitter danced in her hair, across her face; she, Vilde and Noora had got it everywhere, and on everyone.  “I honestly don’t.  Chris doesn’t hate you either.  Nobody hates you, Jonas.  You’re _so_ special.”

“And you’re _so_ drunk.”

“But we’re just… we’re _worried_.  Because you’re sad.  Because we don’t like seeing you sad.”

He watched Isak and Even, walking slightly ahead of them.  Even grabbed Isak’s arm and spun him round twice like a ballerina - a shower of glitter fell from his hair, illuminated in the lamp light overhead.  It fell to the floor like stardust and Jonas felt a warm rush to his face.  Even grabbed onto the younger boy’s waist to steady him;  Isak was dizzy with laughter.

“I’m _not_ sad,” he lied.  “I’m a straight guy walking to a gay club with my ex girlfriend.  I am _beyond_ happy right now.  This is definitely the happiest I’ve been.  Ever.”

He passed the bottle to her; she took a swig, made a _yeurgh_ sound, her face screwed up, and handed it back.

By the time they arrived he was a more acceptable level of drunk.  He didn’t remember much about queuing.  Magnus took a selfie - him, Isak and Jonas pulling faces into the camera - and checked in on Facebook, and Jonas ripped into him for it good naturedly.  “Facebook?  Is your mum going to like that, or...?”  

Magnus looked confused.   “My mum likes knowing what I get up to.”

He didn’t remember much about getting in, either; the bouncer waved them through without checking for IDs, and Eskild blew a familiar kiss at him as they passed.  Inside the club, the bass line from the music thundered in Jonas’s head, making him feel weirdly insignificant.  He still wasn't all that used to clubs.  It was only recently that the students in his year were starting to show a genuine interest in them, as opposed to the relative ease of parties.

They headed straight for the bar.  Even had one arm wrapped protectively around Isak; Jonas watched the way they drew attention from other men, and he was fascinated by it.  Since his feelings for Isak had developed, he’d begun to wonder how Isak was viewed by other men; gay men who stood a chance, if Even hadn’t been on the scene.  He sometimes watched the way Eskild was with him - the touching, the subtle flirtations that could have been facetious or could have hinted at actual lust, he was never sure.  

Now he saw men looking at both Isak and Even with unembarrassed desire; one guy in a sleeveless vest, intricate tattoos lacing his arms, leaned forward as they were passing and whispered something in Even’s ear - he shoved him away with a good natured grin and pulled Isak closer.

They looked beautiful together.  Jonas recognised that, and with it his resentment of Even seemed to grow again, as though the temporary reprise he’d allowed him today had run its natural, short-lived course.  He thought about how he’d feel, holding Isak, knowing he was the object of envy of every man in the room.

His mood had soured already; he knew he was being irrational but he couldn’t seem to shake it off.  He felt erratic now, wound too tight.  He headed straight to the toilets, locked himself in the cubicle and took the small plastic bag from his pocket.

He _loved_ MDMA.  He’d taken it a handful of times and he’d loved everything about it.  The world was right when he took it; he was a better person, a more loving and generous person.  Everything burned a little brighter and every happy feeling was magnified.  He needed that right now.  He needed to feel _something_.

Of course, he knew how sad it was: drunk, lonely Jonas, sat in a toilet on his own, popping Molly with nobody to enjoy the experience with.  Once upon a time he could have given some to Isak and they would proceed to fall in love with the night.  They would have become weightless and limitless as their bodies pressed together for want of physical contact.  Isak would have laughed at everything and Jonas would have closed his eyes and marvelled at the sound of it.

But now, Isak was with his perfect boyfriend, no longer needing artificial highs to feel alive.  And Jonas was sat in a scummy toilet cubicle, pictures of cocks and phone numbers scrawled on the wall, like the _loser druggy_ he was.

He dropped the bag into the toilet and flushed.  It was time to go.

But when he opened the door, a guy was standing outside, an interested expression on his face.  Had he… had he been _followed_ in?  He genuinely hadn’t expected to be cruised at a gay club; he figured anyone with a degree of common sense would see _messed up ideas about sexuality_ written all over him and given him a wide berth.  

Maybe not.

“You up to something in there?” the guy asked.  He shrugged.

“You _want_ to be up to something?”

He shrugged again, raising his eyebrow in a kind of challenge.  The man looked over his shoulder and then pushed Jonas slightly, back into the cubicle.  He closed the door behind him.

“I’ve got some good shit here for you,” the man said.  Jonas nodded.  He got that this wasn’t just about sex.  Maybe it wasn’t at all about sex.  The man fished a clear packet of cocaine from his back pocket and smiled.

“Hand job?  Or… payment, I guess?  I know which I'd prefer.”

Fuck.  He’d literally been here ten minutes and he’d already being mistaken for some kind of drug-dependent rent boy.

But he didn’t have much money on him.  So.

The man unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down.  “Of course, if you’d prefer to suck…?”  Jonas looked at him and the man laughed.  “Go on, then.  Little straight boy in a fag club.  Give it your best shot.”

It was the first time he’d touched a cock that wasn’t his own.  Eva had once asked him, in between slamming shots of tequila, whether he and Isak had ever ‘fooled around’ when they were younger, or drunker.  They never had.  Maybe because Isak had loved him pretty much since puberty, and Jonas had picked up a weird, nervous sexual energy about him from that same point, that had alarmed him for reasons he couldn’t understand.  So it had never materialised, even when they were at their drunkest.

He knew what the guy was expecting; no eye contact, embarrassment, maybe blushing.  He wasn’t going to let him get off on _that_. Instead he stared right at him, and came in for a kiss; he heard the guy groan into his mouth and he went harder, running his hand tightly up and down the shaft.

“Not so straight after all,” the man said, breathless, as he pulled away.  “Fuck, that’s it.”

 _This is so wrong.  This is so wrong_ , his brain told him, before he told himself to shut up.

And then he went down on his knees and began to suck.  He didn’t know why, or how, he was doing this, but the man swore, gasping, like Jonas had punched him instead of taken him into his mouth.  Jonas thought about Isak, on his knees; he wondered whether this was how Isak felt - detached, restless, concerned about how it was going to fit.  It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.  But maybe it was when you wanted to be with the one you were on your knees for.

He didn’t need to deep-throat; the man came within seconds.  Jonas leaned past his legs and spat the contents out into the toilet.  He stood back up, somewhat shakily, and said, “Go on, then, show me this _good shit_ you’ve got for me.”

 

***

 

 _Starboy_ by The Weeknd was playing when he got back out to the main floor.  It was a dance remix but the beat was still low and sexy and people were grinding all around him.  He saw Vilde and Eva making out as Magnus gripped Vilde’s shoulders to let her know he was still there; his expression was somewhere in between ecstatic and confused.  Eskild was spinning Noora round in circles, a group of young guys that Jonas had never seen before were chatting with them, one of them stroking her hair in familiarity.  

_Switch up my style, I take any lane_

_I switch up my cup, I kill any pain_

He looked specifically for Even and Isak and found them in the thick of the crowded floor.  They danced together, their bodies tight against one another. Even ran his hands up and down Isak’s bare arms, before he seemed to tire of that; Jonas watched as they travelled down to Isak’s arse and rested on it, pulling the younger boy closer.  It seemed to Jonas that everyone was watching them, but maybe it was only him.

 

_House so empty; need a centerpiece_

_Twenty racks, a table cut from ebony_

 The room felt alive and the music hummed through him like a siren song.  He felt hands at his hips and he thought about it, about losing his inhibitions enough to enjoy this moment and allow himself to be groped in full view of his friends, in full view of strangers.

The drugs weren’t enough.  He pulled away.

_Look what you’ve done_

_I’m a motherfucking Starboy_

 

He ordered shots at the bar.  He drank them by himself.  His mouth felt stretched wide, as though he couldn’t stop smiling.  He could taste cum in his mouth: the tequila scorched it out but he could still remember the texture.

“Jonas!” Magnus said from behind.  He flung himself into the small space next to Jonas, leaning up against the bar.  “You’re thirsty!”

“So are you,” Jonas said, indicating back to the dance floor.  Magnus covered his head with his hands, his mouth widening in a _Can you believe that shit_ expression.

“They just… they just fucking _went_ for it.  I think I’m going to sleep with them both tonight,” he said, voice quavering slightly.  He blinked, remembering who he was talking to.  “Oh shit, man, as long as that’s okay with you?  I know you and Eva were -”

Jonas smiled magnanimously, placing both of his hands on Magnus’s shoulders.  “Mags, if they want to give you a threesome, I will give you my fucking blessing.”

Magnus covered Jonas’s hands with his own and beamed.

They drank more shots and Jonas lost the limited buzz he’d gained from the cocaine.   _Good shit_ , he wanted to sneer out loud.   _Weak shit_ , more like.  He was annoyed, drinking too quickly; they took drinks over for Vilde and Eva who were still dancing, and leant against a high round table at the edge of the dance floor, sticky with drink.

“See, my mum liked it,” Magnus said, showing him his Facebook check-in.  “She loves me doing crazy shit like this.”

“This isn’t that crazy, man, but… good for her,” Jonas said.  He looked at the status, cringing at the awful photo.  “You didn’t tag this, did you?” he asked.  Magnus blushed guiltily and he groaned, pulling out his own phone to untag himself.

Once he’d done it, he checked the likes to see who had already seen it.

And as he checked the list, the surrounding of the club seemed to fall away from him.  The music faded, Magnus’s laughter dissolved into nothing, the overhead lights dimmed into darkness.

Elias had liked it.

Elias never ‘liked’ statuses.  Facebook was for Basics; he used it only to send messages and suss out his next target.  

Elias had sent him an obscenely clear statement of intent.  He knew where they were.

Jonas looked up, eye scanning the dance floor.  He could see Eskild and Noora.  Eva and Vilde were dancing right in front of them.

His eyes scanned the whole room.  Isak and Even were no longer in the same spot.  He looked again, back to the dance floor, and realised Even was standing next to Eskild, his slim profile almost covered from this position.  He was leaning forward in laughter, talking to Noora as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Nothing _was_ out of the ordinary, for him.  He didn’t know.  He had no idea.

Jonas felt his head thudding.  His knees threatened to give way beneath him.

Because Isak wasn't with Even.  He wasn't with any of the group.  He was alone in here somewhere.  

And Elias… Elias was here too.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the warnings for this chapter. I mean it guys. If you've been triggered by/haven't enjoyed some of the darker aspects of this fic up until this point, this is definitely not the chapter for you. Attempted non-con, graphic violence, trauma. You have been warned.

Sometimes when Jonas dreamed - and he was the type to dream vividly - he found himself walking through sites of destruction in a fugue state; he would avoid fires or sandstorms or crumbling cities simply by continuing to walk, one foot in front of the other, until he woke up, distressed and overwhelmed by his dream self’s lack of fear and understanding.

What followed felt like this.  A state of unawareness, of walking, no, running - one foot in front of the other - down to the toilets, to find them empty.  Of running back up the stairs, looking round the bar, and the dance floor again, as Magnus tried to ask him _what’s wrong, why are you acting so weird_.

His first conscious decision was to ring Isak’s phone.   _Even if Elias has seen him_ , _even if he’s approached him, he can’t do anything_ , he tried to reassure himself.   _We’re in a packed-out gay club and a pretty blonde kid being hassled by an older guy isn’t going to go unnoticed._

He could barely hear the ringing over the music: it eventually went through to voicemail and he ended the call, swearing violently but unheard as bass lines vibrated through him.

 _Isak just can’t hear it over the music_ , he told himself.   _He has to be in here somewhere_ . _He has to be okay._

But he knew.  Deep down, in his gut, he _knew_ this wasn’t okay.

“Isak?  When was the last time you saw Isak?” he asked Magnus, who quickly shook his head, still concerned by Jonas’s agitation.

“He was dancing with Even.  What’s _wrong_ , bro?”

“Stay here,” he told him.  “Keep an eye out for him.”

He heard his friend yelling after him in confusion as he headed onto the dance floor, fighting his way through the crowd to get to Noora, Even and Eskild.  They didn’t see him until he was inches in front of them, their reactions delayed from alcohol.  Jonas grabbed Even’s shoulders, pulling him forward to yell in his ear.

“Where’s Isak?”

Even looked at him, immediately realising that something was wrong.  He looked around in confusion, his eyes wide.

“Did you see him?” he asked Eskild and Noora, who hadn’t heard what he’d asked Even and were staring blankly at him.  “ _Isak_.  Have you seen Isak?”

“I think he went to the toilet,” Even eventually said, remembering he had to answer.  The words came out fast and frenetic, in direct contrast to his original delayed reaction.  “He’s there.  He’s in the toilets.”

Jonas shook his head.  “I’ve already looked.”

He showed Even his phone: the tiny, insignificant ‘Like’ from Elias that meant so much more.  Even’s face drained of colour and he lunged forward, fighting his way past club-goers who turned to glare at him.  Jonas followed him, then Eskild.  Noora stopped when she got to Eva and Vilde, who were talking to Magnus, their faces alight with worry.

“Stay here. Keep together,” Jonas yelled at them over the music.  “Come get us if you see Isak.”  He looked over to the entrance they had come through; surely Elias wouldn’t have got Isak past it without anyone noticing?  He bolted over, Eskild and Even still close behind him.  The bouncer who had waved them through earlier was still on the door, and Jonas asked desperately, “Have you seen my friend leave here?  Did he leave with someone?”

The bouncer shoved him away - an agitated look on his face which indicated he thought Jonas was drunk or tweaking or something - and Eskild pushed past him to hold his hands up in placation.  “You remember him, don’t you?  The blonde haired boy that was with us when we came in?  Did you see him come back out?”

The bouncer shook his head in certainty.  “No, he hasn’t been out.  I would have noticed him.”

They regrouped back inside, huddling near the door where it was quieter.  Even hadn’t spoken once; his eyes, sharp and alert, never stopped scanning the room.  “Is there anywhere else in here?” Jonas asked.  “Another part to the club?”

Eskild shook his head, frowning.  Then he seemed to remember something.  “There’s a beer garden out back they use in the summer, but would be locked at this time of -”

Jonas didn’t hear the rest - he was already heading back inside, grabbing Eskild by the arm to indicate he needed him to lead the way.  They made their way to the other side of the club; past the DJ and past their friends, still huddled into a small group as they tried to work out what was happening.  They edged through the crowd, emerging in a quieter, darker part of the club.  Sure enough, Jonas saw they were heading towards a door with a fire exit sign overhead.  It was slightly ajar and he pushed it open, pausing as he entered a covered terrace that looked out onto the neglected beer garden.

They heard them before they saw them.  Isak crying, saying _No_.  A harsh slap.  Even was ahead of them; Jonas followed him round to the side of the garden and his heart seemed to stop as he viewed what was in front of him.  

Elias had backed Isak onto one of the benches.  He’d grabbed his wrists with one hand and was trying to turn him, to force him to bend stomach-down over the damp wooden planks.  Isak sobbed; he said, “No,” a second time and Elias slapped him a second time.  It was cruel and sharp, across Isak’s face, meant to silence him but also to hurt him.  Then he brought his hand away and back down to Isak’s jeans; they took all of this in within seconds, and Elias spun round to face them when he heard their loud footsteps racing towards him.

He pulled away from Isak, letting him slump to the floor, and opened his mouth to say something.  He was smirking.  He was amused by this.  

But he didn’t have a chance to speak.  One minute Even was slightly ahead of them, the next he was on top of Elias, taking him down with one forceful blow.

Jonas watched mutely as Eskild’s reactions subsequently kicked in; he darted over and pulled Isak away, and the younger boy sank against him as they knelt on the floor.  He took huge, gasping sobs as if he was trying to get air back into his lungs, and Eskild held his head against his chest, trying to shield him from what came next.

The sound of the bones in Elias’s face, cracking with each of Even’s punches, seemed to send Jonas into a trance.  Flesh pounded against flesh, Eskild covered Isak’s ears as he brought his arms around his head in a deliberate hug, and the monster below Even sobbed in pain and then fear.  “Stop,” he pleaded.  Even stopped, but only to bring his hands down to Elias’s neck.  He grabbed and squeezed, cutting off the pleas; Elias rasped out, his legs kicking uselessly below Even’s body.  Even stood up and stamped his feet down on Elias’s calves; another bone  cracked, audible even over Isak’s sobs.

 _He’s going to kill him_ , Jonas realised.

“Jonas, stop him,” Eskild screamed, trying to get away from Isak who was clinging onto him desperately, lost in his terror.  Even brought his foot down again, this time on Elias’s rib cage, and he rasped one more time before losing consciousness.

Even continued to stamp.

And finally, _finally_ , Jonas’s reactions kicked in: he grabbed Even’s waist, trying to drag him away, but Even elbowed him in the stomach and then turned bodily to punch him in the face; he fell back, the pain temporarily blindsiding him.  There was blood at his nose and he brought his hand uselessly up to stem the flow.  

Even knelt back down again and punched Elias’s unresponsive face, and Jonas realised this was no longer about prevention, or even satisfaction - this was pure animalism, a total detachment from his senses.  

Until Isak screamed for Even to stop.  

Even looked up; Isak’s desperate voice seemed to reach him where nothing else could, and he slumped back on his heels, breathing heavily as he took in the prone, lifeless body in front of him.

They were silent.  There were no sounds apart from their breathing, and Isak’s small, involuntary sobs every few seconds.  The four of them stared at Elias, and Jonas felt his mouth hanging open, frozen in fear.  

Had he just witnessed a murder?  It felt like he maybe had.  

The seconds ticked by painfully and he began to try and make sense of what had just happened, and what would happen next.  There would be police, there would be ambulances… and he hadn’t tried to stop it until it was too late.  He slumped against a bench, his brain trying to comprehend how serious this was.

And then Elias rasped again, filling the silence. His head moved slightly as he groaned, and Jonas felt his breath return to them: around him the others made the same noise, almost comical in their synchronisation.

“We need to go,” Eskild said.  “We really need to go.”  He struggled to stand up, trying to pull Isak with him, but Isak was huddled on the floor, his face now covered, and Eskild couldn’t even force him to even look up, let alone move.  “Isak, please, we need to get you out of here,” he begged.  He looked up at Even, not at Jonas - Even, who had almost killed someone with his bare hands - and said, “Even, _please_ , talk to him.”

Even blinked, looking dazed but basically responsive.  He approached Isak carefully and knelt down in front of him.  He brought his trembling hands down, presumably to try and stroke his hair, but he stopped when he saw the blood on his knuckles.  He brought them away, ashamed, wiping them on his trousers.

“Isak,” he said quietly. “Isak, please look at me.”  He said it again, his throat catching with tears.  “Isak, I need you to look at me.”

They watched as Isak lifted his blonde head, his hair matted against his face.  He stared at Even plaintively, as if trying to work out who he was, and Even leant forward to hug him.

Isak flinched. It was unmistakable -  a shudder through his entire body - and Even reeled back as though he had been slapped.  He stood up, his face etched in pain, and he shook his head.  He looked at Jonas, his eyes taking in the blood on his face, and then down to Elias who had come no further in his recovery than the occasional groan.

“I need to go,” he said.  And he walked back into the club.

Eskild looked at Jonas, horrified.  “Should we go after him?”

Jonas shook his head.  Isak was staring blankly into space, as though the last minute hadn’t happened, as though he hadn’t yet registered Even’s desertion of the group.  Jonas crouched down in front of him and tried again.

“Isak, can you walk?  We need to get you home, okay?”  He looked over at Eskild, trying not to cry.  “I don’t know what to do.  Can you pick him up?”  

He would have tried himself but he knew his body was weak at the moment, that he had abused it too much recently to lift anyone beyond a small child.

Eskild nodded, and came over again.  He reached down and put his arms underneath the crook of Isak’s legs, and behind his back, and hauled him up easily.  “Call an ambulance,” he said.  Jonas shook his head.

“They’ll trace my phone.”

“Call an ambulance, Jonas.  He’ll freeze out here in no time at all and I’m not going to act as an accessory to fucking _murder_!”

Isak began to sob quietly, curling into Eskild’s arms, and Eskild headed for the back of the beer garden where a gate led out onto a backstreet behind the main clubland strip.  

Jonas withheld his number before he dialed for the ambulance - though he wasn’t even sure if that worked with emergency services - and waited to be connected.  The woman on the end of the line asked what had happened and he croaked out, “I don’t know.  I just saw a guy out back of _Pulse_.  The gay club off of Karl Johan.  He’s been beaten up very badly.”  She tried to question him further and he said, “My battery is really low. I have to go now.  I’m sorry.”

They walked to the main street leading down from the club.  There were a queue of in-service taxis a short walk away and they managed to get there without drawing too much attention to themselves: Eskild, covered in glitter, carrying a sobbing blonde boy, Jonas still nursing a bloody nose, staggering slightly as he walked.   Predictably, the first taxi driver took one look at them and shook his head.  “No.  No way.  You’re not soiling my vehicle.”

“Please,” Eskild begged.  “I’ll pay double rate, and I’ll pay for any damage if we cause it.  It’s an emergency.”  He held Isak a little tighter, as Jonas stood mutely behind them.  “We don’t need to go far.  Please.”

The taxi driver’s face softened when he saw Isak was crying; he looked at Jonas and said, “You, sit in the front.  Keep your face away from the upholstery.”  Jonas nodded and climbed in, as Eskild maneuvered Isak into the back seat.

He almost threw up on the way home; the tequila shots had returned to terrorise his stomach, but it was the only effect of alcohol he could detect in his body, despite how much he’d drunk earlier.  He wound down the window and leaned out but the feeling passed and so he went back to holding his nose.  His hand was covered in blood.  

The taxi driver looked across at him.  “Fun night?” he asked sarcastically.  Jonas managed a small, equally sarcastic thumbs up.

Isak had fallen asleep as soon as the vehicle started moving, as though his body had shut down to protect him from further trauma.  Jonas watched him from the rear view mirror, glancing up frequently.  Eskild kept his arm around his shoulders, his face pale and drawn.

“Where do you think Even went?” he asked.  Jonas shrugged.

They got back to Eskild and Isak’s place within fifteen minutes.  Eskild pressed a wad of notes into the taxi driver’s hand, and then Jonas helped him to lift Isak from the car.  

He didn’t stir once.

When they were inside, they headed straight to Isak’s bedroom and Eskild lowered him gently on the bed.  He stared at him for a few moments, obviously worried.  “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.  “Do you… do you even understand what’s just happened?”

_Yes.  Unfortunately, yes._

“I have to clean my face up,” Jonas said instead.  He couldn’t currently bear to look at Isak at the moment, even though he seemed relatively peaceful in sleep.  He ignored Eskild’s expression of frustration as he headed to the bathroom.

The blood had stopped flowing by now, so he was tentatively able to clean off the caked residue underneath and around his nose.  The pupils of his eyes looked huge, and he blinked a few times, trying to make himself look normal.

 _Normal_.

A day earlier, he had run through his plan in his head and in his pill-assisted brain it had seemed perfect to him.  

_Keep talking to Even about Elias.  Make him angry.  Point out Elias when he’s in the club.  Even will attack him, just as he told you he would in the toilets that day.  You’ll break them up.  You’ll be the hero; Elias will have got what’s coming to him; and Even will look like a psycho.  Isak won’t want to know him anymore.  He’ll turn to you and you’ll be there for him.  Just like you always are._

It had worked out perfectly.  His plan, which he thought he’d killed in its infancy, had nevertheless played out exactly as he’d pictured it in his head.

But... it hadn’t. Not really.  Because Isak was the one who would bear the real scars from tonight.  And Jonas had ignored that possibility from the start.  It hadn’t even _figured_ in his warped logic.  

He’d promised Isak he’d never let anyone hurt him again, and he’d broken that promise, so many times tonight.  Elias had hurt him.  Even had hurt him.  Most of all, Jonas had hurt him.  

He had encouraged Elias’s sick obsession, in order to fulfil his own.  He hadn’t warned Even about the danger he faced from Elias.  And then, at the most crucial point, he had shoved aside his fears over Elias, because it had been easier to believe that he would accept being humiliated and ridiculed then it was to admit he would come back and finish what he had started with Isak in that cabin so many months ago.

And… he’d watched as Even had almost killed Elias.  He had stood by and watched.

It should have been him doing it; it should have been him risking his freedom for Isak.  He should have done it weeks ago, when he’d first found out.  The night that Elias had first told him.  He’d repressed that urge, he’d left Elias to think he’d won.  

Jonas had then skulked in the shadows, little more than a cockroach, as he watched everything burn around him.

He splashed water on his face, set his expression to neutral, and unlocked the bathroom door.  Eskild was in the kitchen now, waiting for the kettle to boil.  He was staring blankly into space, and didn’t notice he was no longer alone until Jonas cleared his throat.

“Should we… should we call Noora, or someone? They might still be there waiting for us,” Eskild asked.  Jonas didn’t know why Eskild kept deferring to him.  He was a mess.  Couldn’t Eskild see he was a mess?

And the idea seemed absurd that their friends would still be waiting. So much had happened.  But relatively little time had actually passed since Isak had gone missing - less than an hour, in fact.  

A lifetime ago.

He pulled out his phone and wasn’t surprised to see several missed calls from Magnus.  He called him back and got through on the third ring.

“Where are you guys?” he asked.

“We… what’s going on, Jonas?  We’re fucking _freaking_ here.  We saw Even come back through and talk to the bouncer and then they ushered him off somewhere.  Now there’s an ambulance here but apparently it was a false alarm?  The paramedics are just walking around, looking for someone.”

“Just…” Jonas tried to process this information.   _Talk to the bouncer.  False alarm._ He blinked.  “...just go home.  It’s okay.”  Magnus started to protest, clearly not convinced, but Jonas hung up before he could say anything else

“Did you hear that?” he asked Eskild.  “Apparently Even went and talked to the bouncer and they took him somewhere.  And the ambulance arrived but they couldn’t find anyone who needed it.”

“Do you… do you think that guy… got up and went?” Eskild asked.  It was unusual to talk to Eskild like this.  There was no hint of humour or theatricality about his voice: he sounded older, exhausted.  “He looked so bad.”

Jonas thought about the fight with the Yakuzas; the way that some of the boys who had been beaten bloody had managed to drag themselves away.  He wondered if some sort of self-preservation instinct had kicked in with Elias.  He would undoubtedly have been carrying drugs - he always did -  and if there was any CCTV pointed at the garden area, they would have seen him hurting Isak.  Trying to… trying to _force_ a struggling, screaming Isak into sex.

His chest ached; he ran his hand across it slowly and absently.

“I think maybe he did.”

“And now Even’s probably being held by the police?”

“What a fucking mess,” Jonas said.  Eskild snorted.

“This is what we call an understatement.”

They sat and drank coffee until Noora returned home.  She hugged Eskild and then came to Jonas and hugged him too, and he realised in that moment how much he needed it; he pulled her slim body close and clung on and she stroked his hair and rested her head on the top of his.  He wanted to sob but nothing came out but dry convulsions.  Eskild drank his coffee with his eyes closed.

“Where’s Isak?” she asked eventually, as she gently pulled away from him.  She brushed Jonas’s hair from his face and sat in the free chair next to him.

“Asleep,” Eskild answered.

“He was… something happened to him, didn’t it?”

_Something happened.  What a nice, safe expression for being shattered into a million pieces._

Eskild nodded.  Jonas stared at his lap.

“And Even?”

“You probably know more than we do.”

“He disappeared with the bouncer and didn’t come back.  Not while we were still there.  We wanted to wait for him but people started to leave once the ambulance got there and we were the last ones in there.  They said they didn’t know how long he’d be.”

“And the ambulance didn’t take anyone away?”

“I don’t think so.  They were looking for quite some time.”  She pressed her lips together, visibly struggling not to cry.  “Did Even… did he attack someone?”

“We thought he’d killed him,” Eskild replied, almost soundlessly.  She reached forward at that, taking his hand in her own.  Jonas watched, detached, knowing he wasn’t part of this.  He stood up and said, “I’ll check on Isak.”

In the bedroom, Eskild had turned all but one lamp light off, and drawn the covers up and over his sleeping housemate.  Jonas watched him from the doorway, listening to the reassuring sound of his best friend breathing in and out.  At some point - in a few hours, in twenty hours, he had no idea - Isak would wake up and relive everything that had happened to him tonight all over again.  Maybe he would never stop replaying it in his mind.  

And he would reach out for someone who wasn’t there, the only person he wanted to hold him, and the pain would be unbearable for him.

Jonas had wanted that, hadn’t he?  He’d wanted Isak to be shattered, so he could be the one to piece him back together.

Now, instead, he felt like he’d broken something that was beyond repair.  No, not something.  Someone.

He left the flat and walked.  He just walked.  One foot in front of the other.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the last chapter didn't scare everyone off! Thank you for the amazing response; I honestly can't state enough how much I love reading your comments/thoughts/musings/demands etc. ;-) 
> 
> No warnings for this chapter but obviously we're dealing with the aftermath here so there are still some sensitive and upsetting conversations to be had.

After hours of walking aimlessly, he found himself at Eva’s house.  It was almost seven in the morning and sunrise was still a couple of hours away.  His body was finally able to admit that it was exhausted.

Jonas crouched at the window and peered through.  He couldn’t make out whether she was in there alone, with Vilde (or maybe Chris, if she’d called him after leaving the club) or even there at all.  He decided to knock softly and see if she woke.  If she didn’t, he would go home.

She clearly wasn’t sleeping heavily.  He saw movement almost immediately, a lamp light switching on, and then she came over and narrowed her eyes, trying to work out who it was through the darkness.  She opened the window and smiled sadly at him.  She didn’t look surprised in the slightest to see him.

“Can I…?”

She nodded and let him in.

They didn’t talk.  He slipped off his shoes and collapsed into the still-familiar warmth of her bed.  She put her arms around him, drawing him close to her, and they fell asleep, like children huddling together to protect themselves from the storm.

 

***

 

When he woke up, it was to the smell of pancakes.   He was alone in the bed; his pillow was spotted with blood and Eva had wedged some tissues under his nose.  He checked the time; almost two in the afternoon.  The events of last night came back to him in waves and he mentally chastised himself for sleeping, heavily and dreamlessly, when he had so much destruction to atone for.

He pulled on his shoes and walked up quietly to the kitchen.  Eva was at the oven, prodding pancakes around the pan.  She looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at him.

“I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”

“It’s more like…  _ lunch  _ at this point, so.”

“Well, if you’re going to give it negative labels...”

“Lunch isn’t a negative.”

“No, but it isn’t as good as breakfast.”

“Well, breakfast slash lunch, whichever.  I need to go.  But, uh, thank you for the offer.”

She glared at him.  “Sit the fuck down, Jonas.  Otherwise I’m going to tell Doctor Skrulle you have an eating disorder, I swear to God.”

He nodded in contrition and took a seat at the counter.  He did not feel physically capable of conflict right now.  

As she flipped the pancakes over with a spatula, he watched her from behind - her hair falling over her shoulders, her slim waist and her curved hips - and he felt suddenly, enormously sad.  He’d let this easy, straight-forward life slip through his fingers.  He reflected on how different it would have been if they’d stayed together.  He wouldn’t have ruined Isak’s life, or Even’s.  

_ You’d have ruined her life instead _ , he told himself.   _ You’re human cyanide. _

"So, um,” she said quietly when the silence was in danger of stifling them both. “Do you want to talk about it?”

"No.”  She looked at him, slightly taken aback by the harshness of his tone.  “I mean,” he sighed, and shrugged.  “If you want to ask me about it, it’s fine.”

“Okay.”  She nodded and took a deep breath.  “It was Elias, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“He hurt Isak?  And Even went mental?”

He winced at the word but he guessed it was basically accurate.  “Yes.”

“How is Isak?”

“I don’t know.”   _ Better without me there. _ “He was sleeping when I left.  Eskild and Noora will look after him.”  He stood up, trying to change the subject, though he knew that was unfair; she was one of the few who knew about what Isak had been through, and it obviously still affected her.  “Shall I make coffee?”

She looked at him and smiled slightly.  “Okay.”

They prepared the food and coffee in silence.  They ate at the counter, Jonas attacking his pancakes like he hadn’t eaten anything substantial in days - just to prove to her that his appetite was fine - and Eva picking more delicately at hers.  Jonas realised his hands were shaking when he held his knife and fork; Eva glanced down too but didn’t say anything.

“So… what about Even?  Where do you think he is?  In custody?”

“I don’t know.”  He shook his head.  “Do you think I should… call the police?  Tell them that I witnessed it?  If they can see he was defending Isak, they might not… well, maybe it wouldn’t go so bad for him?  It wasn’t self defence, I don’t think, but what’s that other thing called?  Mitigating factors?”

“Maybe.  But I guess they’ll ask him about witnesses, whatever’s happened.  They may call you at some point.  Have you checked your phone?”

He hadn’t.  He hadn’t even thought to look at it since waking up.  Not that he was especially keen to do so.  He took it from his pocket and saw the battery must have run out at some point.  “Have you got a charger?”

She disappeared into her bedroom and came back with one: he plugged it into a spare socket next to the counter and waited a few moments for the screen to boot up.  Soon enough, notifications began to come through.  Messages, mostly, and a couple of missed calls.  One from Eskild, one from Even.

Even.   _ Even  _ had rung him?  He checked the time.  Not long after he’d arrived at Eva’s this morning.  Eva was staring at him, curious about his obvious confusion.

“Even,” he told her.  “He tried to get hold of me.”

He called back immediately while Eva cleared the plates away.  It rung continuously before cutting to voicemail.  He ended the call and shook his head at Eva.  “Nothing.”

“It’s strange that he called, though?  Maybe he hasn’t been charged?”

He shrugged, knowing nothing more than she did, and rang Eskild next.  He got through after a few rings.

“Is… is everything okay?” he asked.  “Is Isak up yet?”

“Not really.  He got up once to use the bathroom and then went straight back to bed.  He didn’t want to talk or even look at me.  I’m kind of…” Eskild let out a small contemplative hum.  “Do you have his dad’s number?  I know he won’t want his mum to know but I don’t feel right not telling either of his parents.”

“Don’t,” Jonas told him warningly.  “I mean it, Eskild.  That’s the last thing he’ll want.  I’ll come over in a couple of hours and I’ll try to talk to him.  Just… just keep an eye on him for now.”

“You promise?  I’m worried about him, Jonas.  I’m half expecting a call from the police and this all feels -”

“I’ll be there,” Jonas cut him off.  “I promise.”

Eva smiled softly at him once he’d ended the call.  “You’re a good friend Jonas.  I hope you know that.”

He laughed humorlessly.  “Yes, such a good friend.  Introducing Isak to Elias and then allowing him to be attacked not once but twice.  I should get an award of some description.”

She looked concerned.  “You can’t blame your-”

“I need to go,” he said, interrupting her.  “Thanks for breakfast.”

She pressed her lips together, turning from him, and he wondered if once upon a time she’d have argued more passionately in his defence.  Now she simply removed herself from his emotions, while he convinced himself he didn’t give a shit about what she thought.

He left without saying goodbye, though he caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes as he headed for the door.  Still, he didn’t look back.

 

***

 

He went home, immediately took a handful of anxiety pills to combat the shaking that his entire body had now succumbed to, and took his phone out.  He’d been avoiding thinking about Isak but he found himself sitting down on his bed as he attempted to draft a message.  

How was he going to do this?  He couldn’t send a break up text.  Best friends didn’t break up.  They just… drifted apart, because best friends weren’t  _ meant  _ to break your heart.

_ I need to say sorry for everything, for Elias mainly but also for messing with your head and trying to kiss you, and every other shitty thing I’ve done to you which have got us to where we are.  I’m going to stay away from you because you need people around you now who put you first. And that’s not me.  I’m sorry for everything. _

Everything about it sounded egotistical and self-centered and he understood immediately that it wouldn’t console Isak in any way; he would be confused and upset about it and he would blame himself for it.  He knew Isak too well, and that was a problem when he was trying to disconnect himself from Isak’s emotions.

He deleted the draft before he could send it and shoved his phone to one side.  

He had a shower, hoping it would clear his mind.  The warm water beat down on him and he turned it on as hot as he could stand it. He scrubbed furiously at every part of his body.  His nose hurt when he tried to touch it but he didn’t think it was broken.  A pity.  That was the very least Even should have done to him.

When he was back in his bedroom he saw that Even had tried to ring again.  He sighed, annoyed that he’d missed it for the second time, and called straight back.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Jonas said, nerves kicking in now he realised he actually needed to  _ speak _ to Even, because he was right here on the end of the phone. “Where are you?  Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Even said, but his voice was dull and monotone and Jonas wanted to sarcastically respond,  _ Yeah, really? Join the club. _

“Fine?  Well, that sounds promising,” he said instead, feigning optimism.  “So did you get charged, or?”

“No.  No, I didn’t get charged.”

“Oh.  Good.  That’s good.”  Was he surprised?  He honestly didn’t know what he’d been expecting.  “So… they’re not even investigating?”

Even let out a ragged sigh, as though the effort to talk was overwhelming.  “If you need to know: I went inside the club and told the bouncer I had nearly killed someone.  He took me up to this small room and made me wait on my own.  He was gone for some time.  When he came back he took me to another room and we watched the CCTV footage.  It was a good view of the garden.  We saw it all.  He said it was clear what had happened, and that it was  _ understandable _ what I did.”

Even paused for a moment, and Jonas heard him coughing, before coming back on the line.  “Elias got up not long after you guys went, and somehow managed to drag himself away.  That was before the ambulance arrived and the paramedics started looking around the garden.  So, there was even less reason for the club to call the police.  Basically, he told me to go home, that it was finished.”

“That’s… that’s brilliant, though, Even?  You must be so relieved?”

There was a longer pause, before Even laughed coldly.  “You think I’m  _ relieved _ ?”

“No, I mean…” Jonas wiped his hand over his face.   _ Fuck,  _ how stupid did he sound at this precise moment?  “It’s a good thing they’re not pressing charges, that’s all.”

“Okay.”  Even sounded vaguely scornful, but simultaneously as though he couldn’t be bothered to argue, and so Jonas didn’t press the point home. “Anyway, I rang you to…” he paused, as if taking a deep breath.  “I wanted to check Isak was okay.  That you got him home safely?”

“Yes.  He… he was asleep when I left but he was safe.  I spoke to Eskild an hour or so ago and he said he’s still basically just sleeping.”  Confusion crept in as he explained this.   _ Why wasn’t Even with Isak right now, trying to help him? _  “I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you, when you get there.”

There was a long pause and then Even said quietly, “I don’t think I’ll be going round.”

“Oh?”

“It’s best if I stay away from Isak.”

Jonas paused, trying to understand what this meant.

“The truth is,” Even explained, “I lost myself last night.  There are… some deep psychological problems within me that I’ve ignored.  I don’t really trust myself around Isak anymore.  I’ve been irresponsible to think I could -”  He took a deep breath.  “You understand what I’m trying to say?

Jonas shook his head, forgetting for a moment that Even couldn’t see him.  He opened his mouth, trying to think of what he could say to fix this.  

_ We can’t both break his heart today _ , he thought.   _ We can’t both leave him to deal with this alone. _

“Even, you can’t… with all due respect, this sounds like saviour complex bullshit.  It’s up to Isak to decide if he wants to be around you or -”

“Just stop, okay?” Even told him.  “I’m done, Jonas.”  His voice was harsher than Jonas had ever heard it, and he flinched at the sound.

“Have you… have you even told him this?  Are you going to tell him?”

The line became silent.

Jonas looked down at the screen, checking to see whether he was still there.  But no, the call was finished. Even had effectively answered his question with an action rather than a word.   _ Tell him yourself. _

He didn’t want this responsibility.  He didn’t want any of this.  What he  _ wanted  _ was to set the clock back to this time yesterday; no, not yesterday… back to weeks before.  To before Elias’s stoned, drunken confession, to before New Year’s Eve.  Further than that: to months before, when he still thought about Isak as a friend, and Even hadn’t materialised, and everything had been so fucking  _ simple _ .

He sat on the edge of his bed, still wrapped in a towel from the shower.  He was shivering again; he needed to smoke, but his parents could always tell when he was doing it in his room.  Shaken through from the conversation, and resolved to action, he pulled on clothes and then rolled up a joint; his fingers were clumsy and made an inelegant job of it.  He tucked it behind his ear and grabbed his coat.  

His mum was in the kitchen when he walked through - she tried to call him back but he ignored her and kept going.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to his family at any length but today was  _ not  _ the day.

Once outside, he lit up and began to walk, trekking the familiar route to Isak’s place.  He had no idea what he was meant to say.  The message he had drafted earlier was obsolete.  Both he and Even had decided at the same time that they were no good for Isak, that the right thing to do was to leave him, but Even had struck the first blow and Jonas felt a protective instinct kick in as a result.  He couldn’t understand how Even had disconnected his feelings about Isak with such a seeming lack of effort.

_ This what you wanted, though _ , he reminded himself.   _ This is exactly what you wanted.  For Even to break Isak’s heart.  For you to be the only person Isak reaches to when he needs someone. _

Even now, despite everything that had happened, despite his resolutions to stay away from Isak, he realised that there was a flicker of hope that had been reignited within him.  He didn’t know what to do with that feeling.  He knew it couldn’t lead to anything good, and yet it pulled at him, whispering sly promises into his ear.

_ Stop _ , he told himself.   _ You’re his friend.  You’re going there as his friend. _

By the time he got to Isak’s place, he realised the weed was doing exactly the opposite of what he’d needed it to.  His mood was magnified - he felt ratty and fractured and he wondered whether he should even go in when he was responding this way.  He even turned to leave, but the thought of Isak dealing with this alone was enough to make him feel ashamed for even considering deserting him when he needed him the most.

The apartment was eerily quiet when Eskild greeted him at the door.  Noora and Linn were nowhere in sight, and he presumed Isak was still in his bedroom.  The hallway, and kitchen when they walked into it, was spotless.

“We’ve been trying to coax him out by doing housework as loudly as possible, but I doubt he’s even noticed,” Eskild explained.  “I’ve tried going in but he isn’t…” he shrugged helplessly.  “He needs Even but he obviously can’t -”

Jonas drew his mouth into a thin line and shook his head.

“No?  They bailed him out?”

“The police were never involved.  The club decided not to report him.  He’s out.  Has been since last night.”

“What?” Isak asked behind them.  They both spun around guiltily.  Isak stood awkwardly, leaning against the door frame to the kitchen.  He was dressed in sweatpants, and a hoodie that swamped him.  It looked like it probably belonged to Even.  His lip was cut, and Jonas bit into his own when he noticed it, realising where it had come from.  “What did you say about Even?  Where is he?”

Eskild looked at Jonas, then back to Isak.  “Why don’t I let you two…” He walked discreetly to the door and, when he was almost level with Isak, smiled fondly at him.  “Eat,” he told him.  “You have my permission to raid Linn’s snack cupboard.”  He widened his eyes with faux-innocence, pressed a hand to his mouth in a  _ Who me? _ expression, and left the kitchen.

Jonas leant back against the counter, scuffing his foot against the floor, feeling under growing scrutiny from Isak’s intense expression.

“Did you say he didn’t want to come over?”

Jonas shook his head.  That  _ wasn’t _ what he’d said, though he could see how Isak had come to that conclusion.  “I was just explaining that the bouncer at the nightclub… uh,” he tried to think of how best to say this, to frame it so that Isak’s first response wasn’t one of anxiety, “...they let him go without contacting the police.  So.  I’m sure he’s back home.”

“You spoke to him?”

“Only very briefly.”

“I’ve been trying to ring him, these last couple of hours.  I guess he’s...  sleeping.  Maybe?” Jonas could tell that Isak was trying to make sense of this information in his head.  “I slept for ages.  I’m sure he’s tired at well.  Did he say he was at home?”

“I… no, I didn’t ask him.  It really was only a quick phone call.  Isak, are you okay.  You-”

“I’m fine,” Isak said quickly.  “I’m okay.  I’ll be better once I’ve spoken to Even and I know he’s safe.”  He attempted a smile, and walked over to the sink to pour himself a glass of water.  “I’ll go round to his place soon.  Unless he’s gone round to his parents.  Are you sure he didn’t say where he was?”

“I’m sure.”

“I don’t understand why he hasn’t called me back,” Isak said.  He pulled his phone out from his pocket and checked it, frowning.  “Maybe I’ll try him again.”

Jonas felt the irritability he’d recognised earlier rear up then; he leant over and grabbed Isak’s phone off of him.  “Listen,” he said, “He’ll call you when he’s ready.  For now, you need to start taking care of yourself.  That starts with eating.”

Isak stared at him passively - Jonas tried not to think too much about that, because Isak had never been particularly passive when it came to people ordering him around - and when Jonas pointed to the kitchen table he sat down without any protest.

“I’ll make you something to eat,” he said.  

He prepared sandwiches for both of them.  He turned to check on Isak every minute or so.  The blonde boy was simply staring vacantly into space.  When he brought the plates over, he brushed his fingers along his shoulder in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture but he saw Isak wince and he pulled his hand back, annoyed with himself.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, it’s not… it just hurts a bit, that’s all.”

“Did he… did he hurt you?  I mean,” Jonas sat down, sliding the sandwiches over as he tried to think of how best to word the question, “I know he… we obviously know he  _ hurt _ you, but what I mean is, did he… did he physically injure you?”

Isak blinked but didn’t answer.

“Isak…?”

“Thanks for this,” Isak said instead, picking up one half of the sandwich.  “I’m starving.”

He didn’t look starving.  He took a few small bites as Jonas tried to continue to hold his gaze.  Isak looked away.  He definitely wasn’t prepared to make this easy.

“Do you think that Even is… maybe he’s pissed with me?  For going off with Elias like that?”

“Going off…?”

“He wanted to talk.  It was stupid, but I thought maybe if I talked to him I’d be able to work out what had happened at the cabin.  You know?  Get it all… straight in my head?”

Jonas tried not to interrupt, though he felt himself become rigid with anger.

“I wasn’t going to do anything with him,” Isak continued, his tone of voice guarded.  “I don’t know why he thought I wanted to… do  _ that _ .  I told him I had a boyfriend now.  I just wanted to work it out, in my head.  But if I’ve upset Even, I-” he paused, blinking.  “I was so stupid.”

Jonas knew then with clarity that he couldn’t do this.  He  _ couldn’t _ listen to Isak blame himself for what had happened last night.  He refused to.  This… this was not within his capabilities.  He shook his head violently and Isak looked at him, worry registering on his pretty face as he noted Jonas’s change in body language.

“You believe me, don’t you?  It was a stupid mistake.  I was drunk and I wasn’t expecting to see him and-”

Jonas didn’t quite understand what happened next; he shoved his plate to one side and grabbed Isak’s arm.   _ He had to make him see. _ He dragged him into his bedroom, and Isak mutely followed him, his eyes wide but his mouth issuing no protest.  

“I can’t do this, Isak,” Jonas said, his voice hitching as he tried to get through to the blonde boy in front of him.   “I can’t listen to you talk about yourself like this.  Please.”

Isak shook his head and took a couple of steps back, but Jonas grabbed him, unzipped the front of his hoodie and pulled it away from his shoulders in a matter of seconds.  “Just  _ look _ ,” he begged, and Isak opened his mouth wordlessly, his body going slack as Jonas pulled up the t-shirt he was wearing underneath.  “Look at what he did to you!” he ordered him.  “Take off your fucking t-shirt and  _ look _ .”

Isak began to cry silently as he tried to placate Jonas’s anger: he gripped his t-shirt in submission and sobbed slightly.  The sound jolted Jonas out of whatever this… this  _ anger  _ was.  He stumbled back, blinking, and Isak covered his mouth with his hand.  His face had drained of colour and he was shaking.  He was  _ terrified. _

Even with this small amount of skin exposed, Jonas could see that Isak’s pale body was a wasteland of bruises.  The worst littered his flat stomach and ribcage where Elias had pressed him against the bench.  Elias had clearly held onto his neck at some point; he could see livid hand prints that extended to his collarbone in large patches.  He couldn’t see the tops of his arms but his wrists were marked too.  Everywhere Elias could grab easily, he’d done so.  Jonas didn’t need to see Isak’s hips to know that there would be even worse there.

Isak looked down at his body and pulled the t-shirt back over his stomach.  He looked ashamed of himself and Jonas brought his hands to his face, trying to calm himself down.

“Just… look at what Elias did to you,” he said, trying to make Isak realise why he’d essentially stripped him. “He… he  _ hurt _ you, Isak.  You didn’t ask him to.  You didn’t… you didn’t even know he was there.  Going somewhere with him… that wasn’t some sort of permission you gave him without realising it. I… genuinely don’t understand any of this. I don’t understand why think you deserve this?  I don’t know how he’s made you believe this is your fault.  Even now.  Even after we heard you telling him no, so clearly.  Even after these bruises.”

Isak stood rooted to the spot, his arms coming round to cover his stomach.

“When I’m gone, when you’re next on your own?  Do me a favour and look in the mirror,” Jonas told him.  “Just  _ look _ .  Look at what he did to you.  Look at your face, your lip.  Where he  _ slapped  _ you.  Look at your neck.  Where he grabbed you.  And ask yourself if you really believe that this was all your fault.  Can you do that for me?”

Isak looked at him and swallowed sharply but there was a small nod as well, and Jonas realised that was progress, even if it was just a small drop in the ocean of Isak’s self-perception issues.

“One day you’ll need to accept that he hurt you.  And that it wasn’t because of anything you did but because he was a fucking evil….  _ scumbag _ … who Even should have killed when he had the chance.”

Isak looked at him, his eyes huge, and Jonas had no idea if the words were going anywhere. But even if they  _ were  _ registering somewhere inside Isak’s head?  What then?  Why did he think he was qualified or even basically equipped to deal with his best friend coming to the realisation that he’d almost been raped last night?  He looked down, taking a breath, remembering where he was, and who he was with.  He had to do better than this.  He had to be the friend Isak needed right now.

Isak looked down at the discarded hoodie on the floor.  He bent down and picked it up and zipped himself back into it.

“I… I’m sorry if I scared you,” Jonas said.  “I’m sorry for all of this.”

Isak closed the gap between them.  He brought his hands round Jonas’s waist and held onto him.  Jonas felt him sobbing and he brought his hands up to stroke his hair.

“When is this ever going to end?” Isak asked, muffled against his chest.  He seemed to feel safe, saying it quietly like this, where even Jonas struggled to hear him, and so he continued.  “I just need all of this to go away and for my head to get better. I’m so sick of feeling like there’s something wrong in here.”

“We can get you help,” Jonas told him quietly.  He stroked through Isak’s curls.  “We can help you to make sense of it all.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to do that.  I think that’s why… that part of my brain has just shut down.  Because it knows I won’t cope with it.”

“Nothing has shut down, Isak.  Your brain works fine.  It’s protected you, that’s all.  But only up until the point where it knows you’re ready to work on this and move on.  And if that’s now or if it’s in, I don’t know, ten years time… it doesn’t matter.”

“Are you stoned right now?” Isak asked him.  Jonas pulled back guiltily and he laughed, continuing to hold on to his waist, until Jonas let him settle back into a hug.  “I don’t care.  You smell of it.  It’s nice.  It just makes you talk more than usual.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

“It’s just a thing.”

They stood in the bedroom for some time, Isak gripping onto his waist, his head against Jonas’s shoulder as Jonas let him take what he needed from the moment.  

Not that he didn’t need this as well.

Eventually, Isak pulled away.  He looked slightly embarrassed.  “I’m still hungry, you know?”

So they went back through to the kitchen and grabbed their sandwiches, along with a large packet of crisps in Linn’s cupboard, and then they came back to the bedroom.  Isak put the first episode of The OA on his laptop, and they squeezed together on the bed side-by-side as they viewed it on the small screen, dropping crumbs onto the bedsheets as they ate and watched in silence.

After a time, Jonas remembered that he still had Isak’s phone on him and he put it in front of Isak.  But when he looked, he saw that Isak was asleep, his head drooping down onto the bed.

Jonas checked the screen.  No messages or calls from Even.  Not one thing.

He looked at Isak and, before he could talk himself out of it, shook him awake.

“Did I miss anything?” Isak asked, blinking against sleep.  “I don’t think I really get this show…?”

“No, you -” Jonas sighed.  “I haven’t told you something.  I… I  _ need  _ to tell you something.”

“About Even?” Isak guessed.  Jonas nodded.

“He’s breaking up with you, Isak.  He told me he doesn’t want to be around you anymore.  Because he’s scared… about what he did last night.”  It almost seemed like a lie, coming from his mouth.  It was the type of thing he knew he would have lied about, days before, with barely a second thought.

Isak shrugged.  “I knew he would do that.”

“You... don’t seem fazed by it?”

“He always pushes me away when he’s worried for me.  He did it when I said that stupid stuff about mentally ill people, and he did it when he got depressed last time.  It will pass.  He knows I need him.”  He looked at Jonas and smiled.  “Is that why you’ve been acting so weird?  You’ve been worried to tell me?”

“Isak… he really did seem serious.  You know?”

Isak nodded. “He’s going to be depressed right now.  It will be fine.  I’ll go talk to him and make him realise he wasn’t to blame for what happened. If I’m not worried, you shouldn’t be.”

“But I think you need to be open to the possibility that -”

“It’s fine,” Isak said, a little more icily, before arranging his face into a placid smile.  “Jonas, he’s my boyfriend and I  _ know _ him.  Once he’s back on his feet and happy again, he’ll change his mind and we’ll sort this all out.  We always do this minute-by-minute thing.  He’s not going to feel this way forever.”

Jonas had nothing left to argue.  He’d known and recognised and  _ heard _ the finality of Even’s expression, but he couldn’t argue on Even’s behalf.  Not when it came to breaking Isak’s heart.

He watched from the corner of his eye as Isak looked down at his phone, a soft flicker of disappointment pursing his lips and dimming his eyes before he shook himself out of it.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told Jonas, moving slightly to nudge him on the shoulder.  “Even always makes this stuff okay.”

Jonas looked at him and forced a smile.  “Well, like you said, you know him better than I do.”

Isak nodded at that.  He went back to his laptop and skipped back to the start of the episode.  “I’ll try not to fall asleep this time,” he said apologetically.

He watched the laptop screen, and Jonas watched Isak, and they didn’t talk again.  When Isak predictably fell asleep for the second time, halfway through the same episode, Jonas checked his own phone.  

Even hadn’t contacted him either, not that Jonas had been expecting him too.  He composed a text, trying to work out what he needed to say.  The words didn’t come out right the first few times but he persevered.

_ I can’t believe I’m sending this, and I’m sure you can’t either. We both know how I feel about Isak.  But I also know how he feels about you.  And I’m telling you, don’t fucking do this. He needs you more than he needs me.  You should be here with him right now, not me.  Please reconsider breaking his heart.  He deserves to be happy and I don’t think he’ll be happy without you in his life.  He loves you and I don’t believe you want to throw that away.  You’d be a fucking idiot if you do _

He pressed send. Then he flipped down the lid to the laptop and placed it on the floor next to the bed.  He pulled the covers over them and held Isak in his arms the way Eva had held him last night.  Because sometimes, you just needed someone to hold you, even if it wasn’t the person you needed most.

  
  



	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a Twitter thingymabob so if you'd like to @ me, even if it's to yell at me, this is the place to do it: @DiscoNight_01
> 
> The volume and depth of the comments on the last chapter were ridiculously amazing: I hope my responses go some way to explaining how much it means to me to receive your feedback.
> 
> <3

When Jonas arrived back home on Sunday, he opened the drawer next to his bed and looked at the mess of pill packets and bottles within it.  Most were empty, or almost empty: he had been taken so many recently, and had attended so few parties, that he hadn’t had a chance to replenish his supply.  The contents of the drawer stared back at him guilty, the half-popped packets innocently shielding his body from the effects he knew he would find within them.

He thought about Isak - about how much Isak needed someone strong and consistent and _together_ \- and he thought about Even, choosing to walk away because he believed, idiotically, that it would protect Isak.  

Jonas had to be a better person for his best friend if he was going to help him get better.  So.

He found an empty plastic bag and shoved every last packet, regardless of how full they were, into it.  He took the last of the weed from his coat pocket and added that as well.  His skins, his lighter: it all went in.  Then he rode down to the docks and flung the bag as far as he could into the murky water.  There was no way he was going to be able to retrieve this in a day or so, if his resolve started to break.

That night he sat with his family for the first time in weeks and ate dinner with them.  His mum was still clearly hung up on his actions of the previous day: for ignoring her calls to talk to her, for staying out again all night, but he could see that the relief she felt in this moment overrode her irritation with him, and so he settled into easy conversation with his sister and joked with his dad about Donald Trump.  It felt easy, and he wondered why he’d pushed them away during everything that had happened recently.  He needed more normality like this, not less.  

 

***

 

The shakes started again as he tried to sleep that night.  Desperate for a distraction, he ended up going to the skate park at just gone midnight.  The graffitied ramps were flooded in the light of the street lamps and though it was below freezing, it was quiet enough for him to feel at peace.

He tried to remember how to lean his body, how to anticipate the curl the ramp, how to judge the height of the jump.  It didn’t come easily but by the end he felt like he’d never stopped skating.  He wished Isak was here to share this with him.

By 3 am he was exhausted.  He dragged himself back home, crept up to his bedroom in silence, and fell into a deep sleep.  He still shook all over but he was too tired to care.

 

***

 

His alarm clock woke him at 8am and he groaned, needing sleep so badly he half considered staying home ill.  The only thing that stopped him was the thought of the day stretching out in front of him with literally nothing to distract him from his empty body, and Isak having to face the school day without Even.

By the time he got to Nissen he was feeling not just shaky but physically quite sick.  He hadn’t eaten yet and he headed for the canteen to buy something for breakfast.  He passed by the lockers on the way, remembering that this time last week, Even had been waiting here for Isak.  This morning, neither of them were there.  Of course, if Even was still in the midst of a depressive episode he would most likely not be here at all, and Jonas hoped that was the case.  He couldn’t even begin to imagine how Isak was going to react to seeing him, when it eventually happened.

After buying some plain toast - the canteen worker looking at him blankly, unused to this type of culinary restraint from students - he headed back to the lockers as he tore off strips to eat a bit at a time.  The corridor was more crowded now and Isak was at his locker when he returned.

“Hey,” he said.  He offered him a slice of toast; he realised two bits might have been a bit ambitious with his stomach currently flipping like a pancake gone wrong.  Isak took a piece and smiled.

“Hi.”  He looked at the toast.  “Plain?”

“Well, there’s some butter on there.”

“Then that makes all the difference.”  He bit into it tentatively, as though he was afraid the blandness might overpower him.  “What a way to start my Monday,” he said once he’d swallowed.

“Don’t say I never treat you.”

The stood side by side as they finished their respective slices.  A couple of students said hello to them as they passed, a couple looking curious at the state of Isak’s lip, but nobody stopped.

“Did, um… did Even call you?” Jonas asked quietly.  Isak shook his head.

“No. I… I tried to go round yesterday afternoon but nobody was answering.  So.”  He shrugged.  “I’m sure he was in there but he probably needs more time.”

“What if he’s at school today?  Will you talk to him?”

“He won’t be at school,” Isak said, finishing his toast.  He turned back round to his locker and opened it.  “He won’t come in if he’s depressed.  And if he isn’t depressed, he’d have contacted me by now.”

“Okay.”

He looked up to see Magnus and Vilde approaching them, as Mahdi trailed behind with a confused expression on his face.  When Magnus was next to Isak, who still had his back to him, he cleared his throat and said softly, “Isak?”

Isak turned and faced him, a self-conscious smile on his face, and Magnus said, “I’m going to…” before lunging forward.

He pulled Isak in for a bear hug.  Jonas watched Isak’s body, rigid and embarrassed at first, dissolve into something softer and more pliant; he let Magnus engulf him with the warmth of his gesture, and when they finally pulled apart, he looked sincerely moved.  Vilde then tapped Magnus’s shoulder; he stepped to one side and she took Isak in her arms next, reaching up on tiptoes in a bid to match his height.

“Thanks,” Isak said throatily when she pulled away.  Jonas glanced at Mahdi, amused by his nonplussed expression, but nonetheless he hugged Isak as well.

“I’m not sure why I’m doing this,” he explained.  “But once in a while you’ve just got to follow the crowd, you know?”

Isak laughed loudly at that, and the sound of it made Jonas temporarily forget every physical ailment in his body.

 

***

 

Tuesday rolled around, and Jonas was genuinely beginning to worry about his health.  He woke up sweating and shivering, his head feeling like it had been pierced by jagged shards of glass.  He tried to throw up in the bathroom but nothing came out.  He avoided his family entirely and set off to school, at a loss as to how he was going to make it through the day.

Once he got to Nissen, he immediately entered the boys toilets to attempt to throw up again.  Once again, however, nothing came out, and he groaned, frustrated, trying to work out what he could do to stop this torture.

Thomas Dahl was waiting for him when he emerged from the cubicle.  Jonas tried to ignore him, knowing why he was here - they’d caught a glimpse of each other as he’d been rushing in the building - but the third year student smiled amiably at him and cut through the silence as Jonas started to wash his hands.

“You look like shit, Vasquez.”

“I’m not feeling well.”

“Yeah, coming down will do that to you,” he said brightly.  “Let me guess - shakes? Nausea?  Feeling like you want to rip your head off your shoulders just to stop the aching in there?”

“You sound like a badly written pamphlet.”

“I’ve got some stuff that will make you feel better.  A good supply of it, too.”

“I said, fuck off.”

“Or some weed?  That will take the edge off.  You’ve bought that from me before so you know how this works.”

Jonas whirled around from the sink, reaching his limit. He grabbed Thomas’s arm and tightened his grip.  “I _said_ , fuck off.”

Thomas simply laughed at him and pushed him away.  “Fucking hell, Vasquez, look at you.  You’re not really in a position to be throwing your weight around right now.”  He shook his head, as if dealing with a mildly amusing, unruly school child.  “Look, it’s just an offer; I’m trying to help a valued customer out, that’s all.  You know where to find me.”

He extended his hand in a practiced gesture of goodwill; Jonas looked down at it and frowned, and pushed it away before leaving the toilets, his legs barely carrying him to his first lesson.

 

***

 

When they met for lunch, Isak was beginning to show the first real signs of anxiety.  Even still wasn’t in school, which wasn’t really remarkable considering only a few days had passed since the events of the weekend, and Jonas knew - from researching bipolar in order to get a handle on what he was up against with Even - that depressive episodes lasted for a week on average and sometimes much longer.  But the complete lack of contact from was obviously starting to affect his friend, and he once again found himself getting angry, with nobody in the direct vicinity to direct his anger at.  He knew from experience that this could be dangerous.

“I just… I need to know he’s okay, that’s all,” Isak told him as they sat with Vilde, Magnus and Mahdi to eat lunch.  “I don’t understand why he can’t even tell me that much.”  He looked across as Jonas, his eyes flickering with confusion.  “Do you think I should contact Sonja?  Perhaps she knows more?”

“No,” Jonas said, as firmly as he could manage.  The food he was attempting to eat was not agreeing with his stomach.  “If she does, is that going to make you feel better?  Knowing he’s shared that personal stuff with his ex girlfriend but not you?  And if she doesn’t, you’re just going to  get upset convincing yourself he’s going through this alone.  Just… wait, okay?”

He didn’t know what he was telling Isak to wait for.  Maybe for a time when Jonas was better able to deal with Isak’s weird perception of reality without it making him want to scream in frustration.

“Well,” Isak said, looking unconvinced. “Maybe if I haven’t heard from him by tomorrow I’ll -”

“You’ll _what_ , Isak?!” Jonas snapped.  Their three friends, who had been discussing Mahdi’s run-in with his teacher over some Theological debate, stopped talking suddenly, looking across in confusion at his harsh tone of voice.  “He’s broken up with you, so I don’t understand why you’re still talking about him like he’s someone who wants your help!”  

As soon as the words were out, he felt like clawing at himself in disgust: he took in the dismayed expression on Isak’s face and leant back, trying to show repentence.

“I’m sorry.  That was -”  He shook his head.  “I’m not feeling well.”

“You _do_ look like shit,” Magnus said helpfully.

“Thanks.  Thanks for that, Mags.”

Isak didn’t laugh.  He was staring down at the plate of food in front of him, blinking rapidly and clearly willing himself not to cry: Jonas could see that and he didn’t know what to say in order to make this moment go away.

“Maybe it’s time we went to see Doctor Skrulle?” he said.  The others looked at him, thinking he meant for himself, but Isak understood what he was trying to say.  He kind of expected an argument, or for Isak to ignore him completely, but instead the blonde boy nodded, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Okay.”  He looked at Jonas and rubbed at his lip self-consciously.  “Will you come with me?” he asked, obviously not bothered by revealing to his friends that it was actually him that needed it.

Jonas tried not to look too taken aback.  There was an underlying feeling of unease again at Isak’s immediate capitulation to Jonas’s instructions: he’d noticed it on Saturday, when he’d taken Isak’s phone from him, and then again when he’d tried to… tried to _strip_ him to prove Isak had been attacked.   _Jesus Christ._ He didn’t understand what went on in Isak’s brain anymore, couldn’t even begin to guess what triggers had malfunctioned in his body to deactivate the fight or flight instinct in such an unpredictable way.

“Sure,” he said.  “You’ve got a free period this afternoon, right?”

Isak nodded.

Magnus looked from Vilde to Mahdi and coughed awkwardly.  “Um, Isak… we’re here if... you know… you ever need to talk?”

Isak looked at him and smiled distantly, and then visibly recollected himself as if remembering where he was and who he was talking to.  He smiled more genuinely.  “It’s fine.  I’m just not really dealing with some stuff at the right now..”

He looked at Jonas who stared down at his lunch, embarrassed.

“Is it about Even?” Mahdi asked.  Isak shrugged.

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  I think we broke up but he hasn’t _told_ me, specifically.  He told Jonas instead.  So… I’m just waiting to talk to him.”

“That’s shitty,” Vilde said.  They all looked at her in shock: the harshness of her expression was in direct contrast to the optimism she usually spoke with.  “If he did that, I’m making him leave Kosegruppe.”

“Thanks, Vilde,” Isak said.  He managed a small smile and banged his fist twice against his chest.  “Solidarity.”

“Kos before hoes,” Magnus said in English.  He smiled, proud of the joke, and Vilde rolled her eyes at him with an exasperated expression.

“Have some respect, Magnus.”

 

***

 

Jonas skipped his next lesson to go with Isak to the medical centre.  Dr Krulle was occupied when they arrived so they sat in the small waiting area.  Isak checked his phone as soon as they were sat down; it had been in his hands through most of the lunch break and Jonas could make out that there were no new notifications on it.  He watched as Isak shoved it into his pocket, barely able to cover his disappointment.

“It’s a really big step, you coming here,” Jonas said.  Isak looked at him placidly, but didn’t answer.  “I mean it.  You should be proud of yourself.”

“Well, you seemed keen for me to come, so.” Isak scuffed his shoe against the floor, not meeting Jonas’s gaze.

“Does that mean you’re just doing this for me?” Jonas asked.  He tried not to raise his voice.  A streak of pain ran through his head and he clenched his teeth.  “Because you should be here for…” he trailed off, trying to think of what he needed to say.  He shook his head.

“You really don’t look well,” Isak said quietly.  “Are you sure you shouldn’t go home, bro?”

“I’m sure,” Jonas said.  He tried to smile.  “You’re not getting out of this that easily. _Bro._ ”

There was a long pause and then Isak muttered, “In answer to your question, no, I’m not here because you told me to.  I think it’s a good idea.  Even if it’s… weird.  To have to talk about this with someone.  An adult.”

“Do you want me to come in with you?”

Isak considered this, before shaking his head.  “No.  I’ll just end up wanting you to talk for me, and I guess the words have to come from me.  My understanding of the situation, you know?”

Jonas thought about how cathartic it had been to talk to Doctor Skrulle, and how he wouldn’t have been able to open up like that if anybody else had been in the room.  He nodded.

“I think that’s a good idea.”  He paused, trying again to ignore the shooting pain through his temple.  “She’s good, though.  Doctor Skrulle.  I didn’t leave on very good terms with her but I think she talks a lot of sense.”

Isak nodded in agreement.  “I went to see her when everything was… shit with Even, after I first met him.  She told me I needed to talk to someone.  That’s why I… you know, came out to you.  Because you were the person I trusted most.”

Jonas smiled weakly, wishing he could enjoy the compliment more.  His head felt at breaking point: he stood up and paced over to the water cooler to pour himself a drink.  He felt himself stagger slightly, and Isak jumped up, steering him back to a chair.  “Wait,” he said.  “Just sit there.”

Jonas meekly obeyed, surprised by the assertion in Isak’s voice.  His head spun as Isak sat next to him with a cup of water in his hands.  He gripped it and took several gulps, leaving it empty.  Isak walked back over and filled it again.  Jonas got halfway through this one before nodding.

“It’s okay,” he lied.  “I feel better.”

Isak stared at him questioningly.  “You haven’t got, like, terminal cancer, have you?  Because I’ve probably been a really shitty friend and not noticed.”  He grabbed Jonas’s beanie and pulled it back slightly.  “Well, you’ve still got your hair,” he said.  “So maybe not.”

Jonas managed a grin.  “Could you imagine what I’d look like with no hair?  Wow.  There’s an image to strike fear into the hearts of the girls at Nissen.”

“Would it take off your eyebrows as well?  Maybe it wouldn’t be all bad.”

“I thought you  _loved_ my eyebrows?!” Jonas said, pretending to be outraged.

The door opened at that point and a teary-looking first year wandered out.  Doctor Skrulle looked at them and smiled.  “When you’re ready, Isak.”

She disappeared back inside. When Jonas looked back at Isak, he was staring down at his lap, clearly nervous.

Jonas grabbed his hand before he could stop himself.  “I’ll wait right here,” he told him.  He squeezed, and Isak’s hand, warm through from nervousness, squeezed back, before letting go.

“See you soon,” he said.  Isak nodded, braced himself with a determined exhalation of breath, and walked through.

 

***

 

When Isak came out he was listless and unresponsive - not in a surly or standoffish way, more as though he was genuinely struggling to understand that someone was trying to talk to him.  Jonas tried asking him about it but he shrugged blankly.

“Did you get a referral form?  For counselling?”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“She wants me to go back for another check-up.”

“Oh.”  That hadn’t been what Jonas expected.  Still, if Doctor Skrulle had scheduled another appointment, that at least meant she was taking some sort of action.  Maybe she had recognised that Isak wasn’t ready for counselling yet.  “When is it, then?  I’ll come with you.”

But Isak was a hundred miles away; he gave no indication that he’d even heard Jonas.

They walked to the next lesson of the day, splitting up when they eventually needed to go in different directions.  Jonas said goodbye but Isak simply wandered off, wholly unaware of anyone around him.

The pounding in Jonas’s head got worse and he ended up leaving school early.

 

***

 

By Thursday, Jonas was pretty much ready to die.  He hadn’t slept properly all week, he had spent most of the night on the toilet, clutching his stomach, and every now and then he retched up bile that didn’t go anywhere.  He fell asleep at around 5.30am and subsequently missed the morning of school.  He forced himself in for the afternoon, worried about Isak, who had been unnaturally quiet all of the previous day.  

He arrived at the start of lunch break.  He immediately went to meet Isak at his biology class; he was talking to Sana when he came out and barely noticed Jonas until he was right in front of him.

He looked slightly more alert today; he said goodbye to Sana with a quick smile and she left him to walk up the corridor with Eva.

“You look shocking,” Isak said.  “Are you still sick?  Why did you come in?”

“ _I’m just a sucker for pain_ ,” he sang throatily.  “You look better, though.”

“Apparently Even is back.  But I haven’t seen him yet.  I thought I’d go and look for him now.”

If Jonas had been feeling any stronger he would have emphatically advised Isak against this, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do so.  Besides, Isak would just do it when Jonas wasn’t around, so maybe it was better to be with him, however much he didn’t want to witness this carcrash.  He followed Isak in silence, trying to guess on a scale of one to ten how terrible this was going to be, and ending up on a nine point five.

Isak’s first line of enquiry was the classroom of Even’s last class, because of _course_ he knew Even’s timetable (Jonas tried not to think about the fact that he knew Isak’s.)  That was already empty.  So they walked via Even’s locker, and round the school yard, finally circling back to the canteen.

Isak stopped in his tracks soon after entering.  Jonas looked across to view what he was looking at: Even, sat with a group of third years, a wide smile on his face as he talked animatedly to them.  He didn’t look sick.  He didn’t look depressed.  He looked like Even: handsome, charming, confident Even.  

“Is-” Jonas started, but Isak had already started walking again, heading straight over to the group.

Jonas couldn’t hear what Isak was saying from here, and he couldn’t bring himself to move closer.  But he could guess.  He saw Isak stop next to Even and attempt a smile, before moving his eyes to another part of the room and tilting his head.

Even looked at Isak, said something briefly, and then started talking again with his friends who were staring awkwardly, the conversation growing distinctly less easy-going.  Isak tried again, and again Even said something briefly, before turning back to his friends.

Isak continued to stand there, his expression switching in a matter of seconds from hopefulness to utter dismay.

Jonas watched, the scene slowing down in front of his eyes, as Isak tipped up Even’s lunch tray, the contents of it ending up in the older boy’s lap.  At that point, Magnus came over and dragged Isak away, attempting to calm him down while simultaneously staring daggers in Even’s direction.  

Even’s friend’s reactions were a mixture of bemusement and shock; most of it seemed directed at Even himself.  Presumably none of them had considered him capable of breaking the younger boy’s heart in such a callous way.

On his way out of the canteen, Even passed by Jonas.  He looked utterly lost, until he saw Jonas in front of him.  Then he hardened his expression and kept on walking.

.

***

 

That was the point that he gave in.  Unable to face lessons, unable to face Isak, and this mess he’d caused, he instead sought out Thomas, who was smoking in one of the covered terraces outside, and took some bank notes out.  “As much as that will get me.  I need anxiety pills, sleeping pills… I need weed.  Just… anything that’s going to put me out of it.”

Thomas nodded.  He pulled a packet of unmarked pills out of his coat pocket, as well as a quarter of weed, and shoved them into the pocket of Jonas’s hoodie.  “I’ll get you the rest tomorrow,” he said, counting through the money.  “Seriously, man, I respect you.  Going cold turkey is just _not_ fucking worth it.  Unless you’re going to lock yourself in a room, Trainspotting style.”

“We’re not talking about heroin here,” Jonas pointed out.

Thomas shrugged.  “Comedowns are all the same.  A waste of your time.  It’s best to just… you know… _harness_ this shit.  Fucking own it.  Drugs are not the problem.”

“No?”

“No.  People.  People are the problem.  People and their bullshit expectations on how life has to be.  People telling you to do things a certain way, or telling you _not_ to do things at all.  People are basically the worst, Vasquez.”

“Cheerful outlook, there.”

“Realism.  That’s what I deal in.”

“Well.”  Jonas felt the comforting feel of the drugs in his pocket; he curled his hand around them and felt them singing to him.  “I’ll leave you to get on with that.”

He headed inside and into the toilets.  The next period was due to start soon and he didn’t want to miss it.  More than that, he needed to focus on it.  He took two of the pills and waited, his head resting against the side of the cubicle.   _Peace_.  He felt at peace.

When he felt sufficiently calm, he heaved himself up to his feet and headed to the classroom for Norwegian.  He knew in his head that he’d failed the test he’d set himself this week, that he should be out-of-his-mind with worry that he hadn’t been able to cope for little more than four days without some sort of drug in his system.  He stopped at his locker on the way and took some books out, noticing the self-referral sheet that Doctor Skrulle had given him, what seemed like an eternity ago, that he had shoved in there for safekeeping.  He covered it with a book and slammed his locker shut.

 

***

 

By the end of the day, he’d taken three more pills, and smoked his way through two joints of weed.  He sat at his bedroom window, blowing the smoke out through it as the cold night air penetrated every part of his body.

He looked at his phone.  There were no new notifications.  He thought about Isak, about what he was doing right now.  He put the joint into the ashtray that was resting at the other side of the window ledge, and started to text.

_J: wyd?_

He immediately saw the bubble to indicate that Isak was writing: he'd clearly been glued to his phone all evening.

_I: Nothing._

_J: You know that Even doesn’t deserve you right?_

_I: ?_

He typed out a response and paused, reading it back.  He hit send before the courage deserted him.

_J: You’re so fucking special. You should be with someone who gets you._

Nothing came through for about a minute: he stared at the screen.  The occasional bubble, the occasional blank screen.  The message that Isak returned was almost farcical in its brevity, considering how long it had taken him to write it.

_I: Even gets me._

_J: Come on Isak hes told you no.  Its bs watching you try to kid yourself otherwise._

_I: I honestly think he’s trying to protect me.  He got scared and he needs time. I know him._

_J: well don’t say I didnt try. I’m here when you wake tf up btw. Just like I always am._

The messages stopped.  He picked his joint back up and turned back towards the window as he felt the weed dim every painful feeling inside of him.  

He guessed Isak was upset. Jonas’s messages would have rattled him.  Freaked him out.  Jonas didn’t care, though.   He'd tried, he'd tried all week to help Isak, and it had got him nowhere.   Nothing had moved on and in some cases they felt even worse.  He'd been an idiot for thinking he was capable of doing anything other than lashing out and hurting people.

He no longer felt on edge, and he no longer felt sick, or stressed.  He felt finally, blissfully, numb inside.  And in this moment, he felt like he could stay numb forever.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really emotional chapter. As in, some highs and a real low. Just to warn you in advance.
> 
> Warning for a sexual act which could possibly be seen as dub-con.

On Friday, for the first time all week, Jonas woke to find he wasn’t shaking, or trying to keep down nausea, or having to contend with a brain-splitting headache.  He felt entirely like himself again, and though that was nothing to celebrate these days, it was at least a temporary relief from his physical ailments.

He went about his morning routine: showering, changing, even finding the time and energy to wolf some breakfast down quickly.  Lastly, he returned to his room to dose himself up for the morning.  Thomas had only given him a couple of different packets and though they were strong, he didn’t like feeling restricted.  His system felt at its best when he self-medicated, matching pills to his current mood.  He would have to seek the third year out at lunch (he had never seen him in before lunch) and claim the rest he was entitled to.  He’d blown his whole monthly allowance on this, after all.

The morning passed by uneventfully.  His Norwegian teacher handed him back the assignment he’d redone (which he could barely remember redoing) and the score had gone up to a +4.  It was still nowhere near what he was capable of but it was certainly an improvement on the 1 he had seen previously.

By lunch he was beginning to feel twitchy.  He first of all checked the boy’s toilets and, failing to see Thomas, headed out to the terrace.  It was quiet outside - the cold weather keeping students indoors, mostly - and at first he assumed nobody was around.  The thick rows of pillars obstructed his view of the furthermost area and he was walking over to check this side when he saw a flash of blonde hair, a distinctive pale green waterproof jacket, and his best friend’s familiar stance as he gripped onto the straps of his rucksack, in conversation with someone.

Neither of them had seen Jonas and he ducked behind the pillar, unsure why.  He hadn’t expected to come across Isak out here and it felt instinctual to conceal himself for a moment.  The terrace itself was a fairly deserted place most days; it acted as a thoroughfare between the older East Block of the school - which Isak must have been in for his last lesson - and the canteen, but the lunchtime rush had been and gone, and it was unusual to see him hanging around.

For a moment he wondered if he was talking to Thomas.  Whoever it was had the same height and hair colour but when he looked again - positioning himself at an angle so he had a clear view but they were unlikely to notice him - he realised it was Anders Silvertsen.  

Anders was a member of this year’s equivalent of the Penetrators; if possible, though, they were even more insufferable now that the _actual_ Pentrators had left.  They’d emerged from nowhere at the start of the year, with rumours circulating that the leader was fucking one of the student teachers at Nissen, and their notoriety had only grown from there.

Jonas watched, his expression tightening with jealousy as he did so.  Anders had one hand pushed up against the pillar, behind Isak’s head; the other hand rested lightly on Isak’s chest.  It could almost be mistaken for an innocent gesture but Jonas recognised the flirtatious gleam in the older boy’s eyes; he wasn’t exactly trying to be subtle about it, and Jonas had used it before on many an occasion.

“-can’t believe you did that,” Anders was saying, chuckling slightly.  “You look so sweet and innocent.”

Isak smiled blankly, his expression impenetrable, and shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably.  Anders ignored that and simply leaned in closer to him.

“I get it, though.  That Even guy is a weirdo.”

“No, he isn’t?” Isak replied, confused.  Anders laughed loudly.

“No?  He must be for dumping you.”

That was a little more effective: Isak blushed, and Jonas felt his hands clutch into fists at his side.  

He _did_ get it.  There were only a handful of ‘out’ students at the school, and Isak - pretty, sensitive Isak, with that ‘just dumped’ sheen of heartache - was now probably top of the hit-on list for repressed closet cases trying to make their life a little less miserable.  That didn’t mean Jonas had to like it, though.

“I’ve noticed you around, anyway.  I’m sure you’ve checked me out a couple of times,” Anders persisted.  Isak remained silent.  “Shit, you don’t talk much, do you?  You are allowed.”  He still didn’t get anything in return; Isak simply stared down at his feet, scuffing them slightly against the floor.  “Besides, everyone knows the best cure for getting over someone is getting under someone else.”  He ran his hand down Isak’s chest, to the waistband of his jeans, grinning when Isak looked up in alarm.  “And you’d look _really_ good under someone.”

Jonas knew he should interrupt.  The last thing Isak needed was some neanderthal third year pawing at him.  Unlike Anders, Jonas _knew_ what had happened to Isak only a week earlier: he knew that Isak was potentially a ticking timebomb when it came to unwanted advances.   But there was also a creeping desire to watch this; he wanted to see whether Isak’s recent tendency towards passivity extended to idiots like Anders, and what that potentially meant.  

He watched as Anders pressed up closer to Isak, stooping slightly to bring his mouth paralled with Isak’s.  Jonas felt his heart beating faster as he watched Isak remain still, as though he was barely in the moment, though his eyes - wary and distrustful - didn’t leave Ander’s face.

“If you’re scared about him finding out, you don’t need to,” Anders said, his voice low.  “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

 _Because you’ve got way more to lose than Isak has_ , Jonas thought.  As if reading his mind, Anders continued with a warning hint to his voice, “And neither are you.”  Again, though, Isak didn’t respond, just stared at the older boy placidly, and finally Anders gave a small, frustrated laugh and pulled away.

“Maybe I could get your number?” he asked.  “You can text me if you change your mind.”  He pulled out his phone, unlocked it and pressed the screen a couple of times.  “Well?”

“It’s, um,” Isak started, looking round as if desperate for an interruption.   _Surely he won’t give it to him_ , Jonas thought.  But Anders handed his phone over to him and Isak reluctantly entered his number.  When he’d finished, Jonas watched as the older boy called Isak, hanging up with a smirk when they heard it vibrate in Isak’s pocket.

“Or maybe I’ll text you,” he said.  “Seeing as you’re shy.”

He flashed a charming smile in Isak’s direction before leaving the terraced area.  Jonas watched as Isak leant against the pillar, his eyes darting upwards in a mixture of relief and frustration; he rubbed his hands up and down his arms as if trying to get warm, and looked like he was about to leave when Jonas decided to make his presence known.  He came from behind the pillar, several steps forward before Isak noticed him.

“Why was he talking to you?” Jonas asked, looking after Anders’ retreating figure.

Isak looked confused for a moment, as if the previous conversation hadn’t registered in his mind - which wouldn’t have surprised Jonas in the slightest, the way Isak was zoning out recently - but then he shrugged nonchalantly and said, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?  He asked for your number but you can’t work out why he was talking to you?”

“You were _listening_?”

“You didn’t reply to my last text so I wanted to check you were okay.  That’s why I was out here looking for you,” he lied.

“Well, why even bother asking me if you apparently saw all of that?  Are you trying to catch me out or something?” Isak snapped angrily.

“I’m just trying to understand why you gave some closet case your number.  You _do_ realise you’re allowed to say no, right?”  He took in Isak’s shocked expression and it only made him feel more vindictive.  “Just because Elias ignored you, that doesn’t mean every guy will, Isak!”

The silence that followed felt like whiplash and Jonas took a step back, shaking his head.  “Okay,” he said placatingly, “that was-”

“I’m sorry,” Isak said, cutting him off desperately.  “I’m really trying here Jonas.  I know you’re getting pissed off with me and I am trying so hard to understand how I can stop it from happening.  I’m _trying_ to get better.  I’ve got my next meeting with Doctor Skrulle on Monday and she really helped me the first time.  Please, don’t-”

“Hey,” Jonas said, bringing Isak into a protective hug in a bid to cut off the frantic explanation; he could hear the warning signs of Isak’s breathing speeding up and he tried to get him to focus his energy on the physical contact between them.  “I’m not mad, I promise.  I shouldn’t have said that.  You’re not the only one who has stuff to work on. I need to try harder as well.  Do you understand?”

Isak nodded against his chest.

“And Isak, if I… if I say something shitty to you?  Can you do me a favour and not apologise?  Just do that one thing, okay?”

Isak pulled away from him, and looked at him, and Jonas could see the effort he was making not to protest.  Finally, he nodded.  “Okay.”  He took a deep breath, as if steadying himself, though Jonas could see the effort he was making not to freak out.  Jonas already knew his words and actions had the potential to leave Isak a ticking timebomb, and yet he kept messing up.  He _had_ to get better at this.

“Do you have lessons this afternoon?” Jonas asked him, knowing already that the answer was yes.  But Isak hesitated, then shrugged.

“I… yes. But I don’t really… I was kind of thinking of cutting?”  He didn’t say why, but Jonas got the distinct impression he wanted to stay with him.

“Well, shall we go back to yours?”

Isak smiled and nodded, looking relieved.  “Yes.  That would be awesome.”

They were heading out from the terrace when Jonas spotted Thomas sitting on his own on the bench.  He put his arm in front of Isak to halt him and said, “Just wait a second.  Stay here.”

Thomas glanced up as he approached.  Jonas outstretched his hand, palm upwards.  “Have you got the rest yet?”

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Thomas said, standing up.  He pushed Jonas’s hand down.  “A bit of discretion, please, Vasquez.”  He glanced over at Isak and, deciding he wasn’t a threat, proceeded as normal.  He reached into his coat and took out a few packets, including some more weed, and pressed them into Jonas’s coat pocket.

“Enjoy,” he said, grinning at Jonas as he chewed on some gum.  “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

Jonas turned on his heel and walked back to Isak.  His best friend was watching him suspiciously.  “You’re buying from Thomas?” he asked when they were out of earshot.  “I thought you didn’t like his stuff?”

“Well, my options are a bit more limited these days,” he said, shrugging.  He didn’t bring Elias’s name into it, though he knew Isak would still make the connection.  “I think it’s actually improved a bit.  Or maybe I’m just less fussy.”

“Well, maybe I can test it and let you know my opinion.  Purely in the name of scientific research, you understand,” Isak said with mock officiality.

Jonas looked at him and raised his eyebrows.  “Thought you’d given up?”

“I did.  And then my boyfriend ditched me.  So.”  He forced a smile.  “I think I can allow myself a joint or two.”  The smile widened, a little more genuinely.  “Maybe even three or four?”

 

***

 

They smoked through the afternoon and into the night and Jonas found himself falling in love with every part of Isak again.  The way his body curled round the pillow; his blonde hair curling against his forehead; his ridiculous laugh, somehow high pitched and throaty at the same time. And most of all the way he looked at Jonas, his undivided attention focused on every word Jonas said.  It felt like a long time since he’d looked at Jonas in this way.

Not that Jonas said much of anything, at least for the first few hours.  He mostly just lazed on Isak’s bed, occasionally running his hand over his best friend’s arm, and though he was pretty sure weed wasn’t meant to be an aphrodisiac, he allowed himself to feel horny.  Obviously he still _got_ horny, for fucks sake, he was a normal, functioning teenage boy, but it did feel recently like every time he jerked off, he felt loaded under the baggage of his feelings for Isak and he always ended up feeling grubby as a result.  Now, Isak was soft and receptive on the bed next to him and he let himself enjoy the closeness between them in a way he’d never done before.

He kept zoning in and out of the conversation, but figured that was okay but Isak was as high as he was; maybe even higher, as his tolerance was much less fucked than Jonas’s was at this point.  When he focused again, Isak was asking him if he’d heard the new Ed Sheeran song and he thought for a moment about the last time he’d listened to music intentionally.  Not in ages, he realised.

“No.  Why?”

“It reminds me of us.”

“ _Us_?”

“Like, our friendship.”

“In what way?”

“Because of that time we got really drunk and ended up at Akershus Castle as the sun went down.  Do you remember?  It was freezing and you wanted to go swimming in the docks.”

“I remember.”  He smiled at the memory.  He’d remembered Isak’s horrified expression as he took off his coat and threatened to jump in; the way he’d fallen backwards into Isak’s arms instead, and they laughed so hard their ribs began to ache as the cold spray from the water whipped against their faces.  “So the song is about getting drunk and visiting castles?”

“Pretty much.”

“Play it on your laptop.”

Isak whined.  “I can’t move.  I’m too stoned.”

Jonas mimicked his whining.  “Sing it, then.”

“I can’t remember the words.”

“Because your English is terrible.”

“ _Fuck off your fucking dickhead... twatface,”_ Isak said in passable English, with a terrible English accent.

“Seriously, sing it,” Jonas said, turning to face Isak with wide, imploring eyes.  “Please?”

“Like… it’s... “  Isak closed his eyes and began to sing softly, “ _I’m on my way… I still remember these_ …” he frowned, struggling to remember, “something... _roads… when we did not know the answer_ .   _And I miss the way, you make… me feel, it’s real, and we’d watch the sunset over the castle on the hill_.”

His lips curled upwards in a pretty smile and he sighed, eyes still closed, which was just as well because if he’d been watching Jonas he’d probably have been terrified by the intensity of his expression.

“It’s a nice song,” he continued.  “You should learn it on your guitar.”

“Okay,” Jonas said throatily.  “I’ll learn your gay castle song on my guitar.”

They lay on the bed in silence for some time, and after a while they became aware of a gentle knocking on the door, and Eskild’s voice from outside.  “Isak?  Are you okay?  Can I come in?”

Isak rolled over to the edge of the bed and slid the cup, acting as an ashtray, underneath. He then sat up to face the door.  “Yes.  Come in.”

Eskild frowned at them both when he entered.  “It smells like an opium den in here.”

“That’s weird,” Isak said.  “Jonas, have you been doing opium?”

Jonas shook his head.

“Well, he hasn’t, and I haven’t, so I’m not sure where the opium is coming from.  Maybe Linn’s room?” he said helpfully.  Eskild’s frown increased, and Isak smiled sweetly in return, forcing Eskild to roll his eyes in defeat.

“We were going to get takeaway.  Do you want some?”

Isak looked at Jonas, who shook his head.

“We bought snacks.  It’s fine.”

Eskild didn’t look convinced by this.  “I hope you’re taking care of him, Jonas.”

Isak groaned and fell back onto the bed.  “I _don’t_ need looking after.”

“No?  Did you hear from Even today?” he asked.  Isak looked up at the ceiling, eyes flickering with sadness for the first time since they’d got high; Jonas watched him out of the corner of his eye and wished he could tell Eskild to shut the fuck up.  “Did he try to talk to you?”

“He’s dumped me.  There isn’t much to talk about.”

“You really should try, though.  He might be struggling to deal with what happened last week and -”

 _Fuck it,_ Jonas thought.

“Can’t you tell Isak doesn’t want to talk about it?” he snapped, turning to face him.  Eskild looked at him, eyes widening with incredulity, and he continued, “So maybe just leave this for now, okay?”

Isak was still staring up at the ceiling, expressionless, and Eskild looked at him before sighing.

“We’ll order extra just in case you guys want it.”

He closed the door quietly behind him, and Isak let his guard drop, his arms coming back round to hug his pillow.  “Thanks.”  He frowned, clearly feeling bad.  “He’s not… he doesn’t mean it.  He’s been brilliant this week.  But this Even thing has made him so much worse.  I think he’s worried I’m going to try and kill myself or something.”  He felt Jonas staring at him and said, “I’m not.  Just to clarify.”  He eased himself over to the side of the bed and found the cup underneath.  He retrieved the joint with a contented sigh.  “Not when we’ve got this good shit.”

“So you agree?  It’s good shit?”

“Thomas gets a pass,” Isak said, bringing it to his lips.  “Well done, Thomas.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he passed the joint over to Jonas.  Jonas tilted his head slightly so he could see the screen as Isak brought it up to his face.  Somebody had sent him a picture and from here, Jonas could just about make out what it was, even from the lock screen.

“Is that -”

“Jesus.  That fucking Anders guy has sent me a dick pic,” Isak said in a bemused tone of voice.  “What the fuck?”

“What a fucking weirdo,” Jonas laughed, though he felt like if he wasn’t so high he’d probably be freaking out about this right now.  “He’s got a fucking nerve, considering his Russ group.  What do they call themselves?  The Pussy Posse?”

“What should I do?  Just delete it?”

“Open it, let’s look.”

Isak looked across at him, raising an eyebrow, and Jonas smiled beseechingly.  The blonde boy sighed, and went into his messages.  He clicked the picture to enlarge it and they both stared.  “Well… that’s nice, I guess?” Jonas said, wondering what the correct response was supposed to be.  Isak groaned.

“Is this what being gay is?  I don’t think I want it.  I want to be straight again.”

“Too late now.  Once you’ve been sent a dick pic it’s all over.  You’ve officially been inducted into the Gay Mafia.”

“That… is not a thing,” Isak said, pushing his phone out of the way in distaste.

“It is.  It is definitely a thing.”

“So if I sent you a dick pic for a joke, you’d have to give up girls forever?”

“I don’t make the rules, Isak.”

“You’re such a fucking arsehole,” Isak said, laughing.  “I should do it, just to teach you a lesson.”

“Oh, I see how it is.  You _want_ me to be gay.  Jeez, Isak, make it a little less obvious you’re still into me.”

Isak looked at him, his mouth wide open with laughter. He attempted to punch Jonas’s shoulder, failing miserably in his stoned clumsiness, and began to squeal when Jonas grabbed his wrists and dragged him closer.

“If you want to make me gay, Isak, there are easier and more productive ways than sending pictures of your dick,” he said, in a mock lecturing voice.

“Oh yeah, like what?” Isak said challengingly.  His mouth was close to Jonas’s, and though he was still smiling, Jonas was sure he must have picked up on the change in tone.

Jonas guessed this was it: now or never.

“I’ve already told you that I love you.  Show me what it’s like to be gay and I’ll decide if I’m actually gay, or just hot for you.”

Isak flushed beautifully.  If he hadn’t been so stoned, he may have withdrawn into himself at this point, but instead he widened his eyes as if contemplating this.  “You really want that?”

Jonas leant forward and kissed him in response.  He tried not to think about last time: about the panic attack that had followed, the sheer awkwardness of the walk home… Even finding out.  That whole mess.  And unlike last time, Isak didn’t accept it passively with no actual response; this time he opened his mouth and shyly swiped his tongue against Jonas’s, and Jonas moaned into it, his head almost short-circuiting with how good Isak tasted.

“Okay, you've converted me,” he said decisively as he pulled away, and Isak laughed softly, coming back for another kiss.  Jonas briefly let him take control, laying flat on the bed as Isak propped himself up, hands under his stomach as he kissed him slowly, but his instincts kicked in before long and he pushed Isak down, straddling him as he deepened the kiss.

He pushed his hips against Isak’s and began to grind, the friction building deliciously as Isak panted against his mouth.  His pretty mouth was wide open, as needy and sensitive as Jonas had known it would be, and Jonas trailed kisses down to his neck just so he could continue to stare up at it, barely able to believe that he was the reason Isak’s lips were so red and so yielding.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, coming up to Isak’s ear to trace it with his lips.  “Your face is so fucking perfect.”  Isak opened his eyes, his pupils huge with lust.  “I could fucking stare at you forever and never got bored.”

He brought his hands down from Isak’s shoulders to his stomach, slipping them under his t-shirt and bringing it back to expose Isak’s stomach.  It was still littered with bruises and he saw Isak remember, and start to cover himself up; he brought his lips down and pressed them against it.  “It’s okay,” he said, and Isak tensed slightly as Jonas began to work his way down to his waistband. “I told you, you’re perfect.”

He looked up at Isak, who was squirming indecisively beneath him.  

Well, if there was a decision to be made…

He unbuttoned Isak’s jeans and started to slide them down his hips.  But he felt Isak freeze as he pulled them lower and it didn’t take him long to work out why.  The bruises that marred Isak’s stomach and chest were even worse down here; handprint sized bruises in mottled browns and blues, round his hips and thighs, each one telling an ugly story from last Friday.  He almost froze at the sight.  But when he saw Isak staring at him, expecting the worse, he smiled reassuringly and  pressed his lips to them, gently working his way round, skimming round the edges of Isak’s boxer briefs.  

“You don’t need to be scared,” Jonas said.  He held Isak’s hips gently and nudged down the waistband.  “Tell me if you want this?”

Isak looked at him, and nodded, and Jonas wrestled off Isak’s bottom half of his clothes completely.  Then he disrobed of his own, eventually pulling his jumper and t-shirt off before stripping Isak of his.

He felt breathless as he took in the porcelain skin, the slim torso, the sheer vulnerability of Isak’s body beneath him.  He brought his hand to Isak’s cock and pressed against it, feeling the growing hardness.  “You’re getting hot for me, aren’t you?  How many times have you thought about this?”

Isak moaned.

“Lots?  You think about me when you touch yourself sometimes?  Still?”  He smiled.  “Moan for me again.  You sound so fucking hot when you moan.”

He brought his mouth back to Isak’s, hearing him gasp into it, eventually rewarding him with the keening noise he was after.  “I want to eat you out,” he whispered against his mouth.  “Want to hear that noise as I tongue you.”

Isak shook his head suddenly.  “N-no… don’t you want to fuck me?”

Jonas smiled in bemusement.  “I want to make you feel good.”

“You will, you will make me feel good.  Please.  Fuck me.”  He looked at Jonas pleadingly.  “Or let me go down on you?  I can suck you off.”

“Isak-”

Isak leaned up for another kiss, pulling Jonas’s head down hungrily.  He felt Isak’s hands in his hair, frantically pulling, and he tried to slow it down.  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, pulling away.  “We’ve got all night.”

“You want to fuck me, though?”

“I mean,” Jonas tried to collect his thoughts, trying to work out what he _did_ want.  “I want to just fucking… open you up first.  Make you hot for it.”

Isak nodded, his eyes flashing with uncertainty, and he tensed up again as Jonas travelled down to his hips, lifting Isak’s legs up to his shoulders and parting Isak’s cheeks with his hands.  He knew that girls tended to get nervous when he ate them out for the first time, and he figured that the same applied to guys even when the anatomy was different.  He wondered if Even had ever done this; whether Isak was so nervous because he hadn’t.

He circled his tongue, feeling Isak’s body yield slightly as he pressed it in softly.  Using his fingers he opened him up a little, pushing in and hearing Isak whimper slightly.  “You’re so sensitive,” he said, smirking a little, watching as Isak arched his back.  “That’s it.  Open up for me.”  He brought his mouth back, and went in slightly deeper, building up slickness in the heat of Isak’s arse, gripping his legs and pulling them slightly wider.  

Isak began to moan as Jonas built up a rhythm with his tongue and one of his fingers, squirming one way and the other.  “Oh, fuck,” he panted, and Jonas added another finger, pushing in harder.  And then he felt Isak’s body go rigid, and he realised that didn’t seem right.

He looked up to see Isak crying.  Not ‘I’m getting fucked and it feels amazing’ crying, but silent sobs that immediately stopped Jonas in his tracks.  He pulled away, careful not to move suddenly or raise his voice or do anything that might make this worse, and moved back up the bed to look at Isak properly.

“Isak,” he said, “Tell me what’s wrong?”  He kissed the tears away, hoping this was nothing, that Isak always got like this during sex, but then Isak whispered, “I thought I could do this.  I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry for what?”

“For not wanting this.”

Jonas settled down next to his best friend and titled his head up.  “You definitely don’t want this?”

Isak shook his head.  “I told you, I’m sorry.”

“But you don’t need to be.  It’s up to you to decide if you have sex or not.”  He realised that, despite everything, he was proud of Isak for essentially telling him no.  “I’m sorry for… for putting you in this position.”

“No!” Isak said quickly.  “I tried, Jonas, I really did think I could do this.  You didn’t… please don’t feel like you’ve done something I didn’t want.”  He was still crying, and Jonas reached across to wipe his tears from his cheeks.  “I wish I was normal and could do this without feeling so… so damaged.  Even with Even, sometimes he fucks me…” he stopped, looking pained, “ _fucked_ me, and I thought about… about how weird I felt inside, and I had to shut it all out so I don’t hurt his feelings.”  He grabbed Jonas’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to it.  “You’re my best friend and I can’t do _this_ with you.  I can’t associate these feelings with you.  I’m so sorry.”

Jonas nodded.  He understood.  He remembered what Even had said to him, last Friday morning as he’d confronted Jonas over the kiss.   _You’re his best friend and he needs you to be that right now_.

He’d crossed a line tonight - put his own needs before Isak’s because he’d wanted so badly to be something more to him - and he knew he would never stop hating himself for it now the effects of the drugs had left their systems and Isak continued to apologise for him for something he didn’t understand.

They pulled their clothes back on in silence, and Jonas wondered whether he should leave.  But Isak looked desperate when he suggested it, and he nestled back into the warmth of the bed, no longer feeling anything other than protectiveness towards his best friend.  Isak relit the unfinished joint and took a drag, handing it to Jonas, but it no longer held appeal for either of them, and Jonas didn’t enjoy it as he brought it to his lips.  

He watched as Isak unlocked his phone and looked at the message from Anders again.  “I’m just going to delete it.”

“You should reply.  Tell him to send on with his face AND dick.  You never know when you might need to blackmail him,” Jonas said, trying to lighten the tone.

“I can’t encourage him, Jonas.”

Jonas fell silent, understanding what Isak was saying.  Encouragement in Isak’s head meant acting slutty.  If he _acted slutty_ , he would be able to convince himself that Anders was entitled to do what he liked with him.  Sometimes, when Joas found himself understanding Isak’s thought processes, the weight of those insecurities _crippled_ him: he had no idea how it must have felt for Isak, carrying that with him wherever he went.

“Give me his number,” he said, reaching out for the phone.  Isak handed it to him reluctantly and he keyed it into his contacts, took a screenshot of the message, forwarded it to himself, and then handed the phone back.  “You can delete it now,” he told him.  “I’ll text him.”

He quickly typed out the message:   _This is Isak’s friend Jonas. You need to stop harassing him otherwise I’ll show this ss to your friends.  He won’t do it but I don’t give a shit._ Then he attached the screenshot and hit send.

“What I said earlier… about you being able to say no to guys.  I meant that, you know?  It’s not just me you can say it to, but anybody who makes you feel uncomfortable.  I know I shouldn’t have brought Elias into it but you need to believe me: you don’t _have_ to do anything you don’t want to.  Never forget that.”

Isak looked at him and managed a small smile.  “Do you want to know what Doctor Skrulle asked me to do?”  Jonas nodded, and Isak took a deep breath, reaching back for the joint and pressing it to his lips as he thought about how best to explain.  “I started to talk about Elias, about what we did at the cabin, and she stopped me after a while and told me to go back and start again.  Every time I said something like… a _justification_ , as she explained it, she would stop me, and tell me to go back to the beginning.  So I soon realised she only wanted me to tell her what happened, not my… my _feelings_.”

Jonas nodded, showing him he was listening, though he felt himself becoming more affected, the more that Isak opened up to him.

“At first I was kind of pissed off because it felt like she was telling me that my feelings weren’t important.  But when I got to the end I started to see something.  When I told her, like, something he did, I wasn’t able to defend him.  I had to just say it as it happened.”

“And that helped?”

“It made me feel horrible at the time.  She asked me to go home and write down what I’d told her and again to do it dispassionately.  It was really hard… it kind of made me feel sick to do it.  But when I read it back I realised that maybe some of the stuff in my head had got mixed up.  I figured that Elias would have… he’d have _done it_ even if I hadn’t wanted it, because he had no idea what was going on in my head.  And that the stuff I did when we were together, the way I acted, it should have suggested to him that I was scared.  And even though he must have seen that, he didn’t stop to check I was okay.  Not once.”

Jonas swallowed back tears.

Isak shook his head.  “If, say, Eva, or Vilde, or any girl had told me that a guy… had done stuff with them, and they’d been crying and feeling like they wanted to go slower but didn’t know how to ask, I’d feel sick and angry on their behalf.  But I thought… because I was gay, it’s just what happened.  That it was supposed to be rough and fast and that if I was upset, I deserved it.  But as I was writing, I couldn’t help thinking about how it was with Even, the times I’ve blown him, like, how good he tried to make it for me, even if I sometimes needed to hide what was going on in my head.  He didn’t go too fast, he didn’t… didn’t laugh when I choked, or call me names.  He just,” Isak shrugged, looking forlorn, “He made it something I wanted again, and I wasn’t scared of him.  I was… I was _scared_ of Elias.”

Jonas watched as Isak brought a trembling hand up to his face, running it over his eyes.  “Wow, this got serious,” he said, laughing in a bid to lighten the mood.  “I think this joint has gone bad.”  He stubbed it out in the cup and searched Jonas’s face with his eyes, waiting for a reactions.

“I’ve… I’ve gotta take a piss,” Jonas said.  He hauled himself to his feet, feeling like a dick when he saw Isak swallow his embarrassment away.  “It’s okay.  I’ll be back in a minute.”

He just about made it to the bathroom before the tears came.  He cried silently and painfully, pressing his hands to his face and covering himself in darkness.  He needed every memory of Elias to be gone from Isak’s life, so that he never had to watch him come to terms with what happened again.  He needed his friend - his sweet, funny, kind best friend - to enjoy sex, to not be weighed down by the insecurities that Elias had inflicted on him.  He needed Isak to trust people, to not see himself as unworthy of love.

And most of all he needed to find some kind of peace, because he believed the guilt from what he had just tried to do with Isak - no matter how much Isak reassured him he’d wanted it - would never leave him.

Isak was still and silent when he got back into the bedroom, but he wasn’t asleep.  He fixed Jonas with an innocent smile and said, “Are we okay?”

Jonas nodded.  “We’re okay.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

Jonas shook his head, eyes filling up again, and as soon as Isak noticed them, he started to cry too.

“In another universe, you’d have realised sooner that you loved me back, and we’d be an old married couple by now,” his best friend said.

“This is the darkest timeline,” Jonas agreed.  Isak laughed through his tears, and then began to sob.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

His English teacher had once explained the phrase ‘ _A little white lie_ ’; an expression that indicated a lie you told to someone - generally not serious but sometimes used sarcastically - in order to protect them from a worse truth.

He picked up his rucksack, leant down to kiss Isak on the forehead, and said, “I’ll see you on Monday.”

On his way out, he looked into the empty kitchen and saw a full bottle of vodka on the table.  His right hand wrapped round the pills in his pocket and he took the bottle in his other.  He braced himself as he walked outside into the freezing January night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come @ me on Twitter: @DiscoNight_01


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! A note to say that we're now hurtling towards the end of the story. There are still a few chapters left but I thought it best to prepare you guys. :') I'm predicting a nice round number of 20 chapters in total.
> 
> If you want to anonymously come ask me questions/fling headcanons at me/give me ideas for future fics, you can drop some stuff in my CC: https://curiouscat.me/DiscoNight_01
> 
> And as always, you can come @ me on Twitter: @DiscoNight_01 
> 
> Warning for suicidal themes throughout this chapter.

The docklands were empty and freezing in the early hours of the morning.  The chill from the water sprayed Jonas’s face as he sat at the edge of the dock, his legs dangling over the side. He held the bottle of vodka in his numb hands.  The packet of pills rested on his lap; he put the bottle down and popped each one in turn, holding them in his clenched fist.

He looked out to the huge cargo ships carrying hundreds of thousands worth of desirable commodities that kept this country financially solvent and he thought about the way he used to rant against capitalism, against right wing rhetoric, and the death of beauty.  Now he felt disconnected from all of that, because he’d lost himself to something that was supposed to be _real_ and yet had hollowed him out more than fucking… _McDonalds_ ever would.  

He wondered why he’d ever bothered caring.  The day he’d acknowledged his feelings for Isak, the downward spiral he’d been on ever since, had twisted his mind and shelled him out into a husk, easily discarded.

He played a game; he took a pill or a swig of vodka for every time he could remember hurting Isak.  

 _For the time you invited Elias to the cabin_ , swallow.   _For the times you teased him about being gay_ , swallow.   _For the time you left him alone that night, and the night after that_ , drink.   _For the times you ignored his feelings for him_ , swallow.   _For the times you got off on those feelings but still refused to admit you held them too_ , drink.  

He steadied himself, he fought back his fears, he started again.

 _For calling him a slut because he’d dared to have a friend that wasn’t you_ , swallow two.   _For deciding he wanted him only after he dared to get a life of his own,_ drink.

The vodka bottle was almost halfway drained, the pills in his hand almost depleted.   _Carry on_ , he told himself.   _Isak didn’t get to back out when Elias forced him onto his knees in the cabin.  Carry the fuck on._

So.   _For not killing Elias when you had the chance,_ swallow.   _For going back to Elias to try and take both him and Even down,_ drink.   _For listening as Elias told you what he’d do to Isak_ , swallow.   _For kissing Isak_ , drink.   _For making him have a panic attack,_ drink again.   _For everything that happened the night at the club_ , swallow the last remaining pills.   _For trying to fuck him tonight_ , dr-

He couldn’t.  He’d done this too fast.  He fell back to the ground, his head spinning.  If he’d fallen the other way, into the water, he’d be dying right this second; he would freeze to death and maybe that would be appropriate.

He remembered that night when they were fifteen, the night at that castle: Isak clinging onto him as they’d walked to the water and filled the vastness of their surroundings with their laughter and their idealism.  

They’d been 15 and it had felt as though they’d rule the world one day.

His stomach churned.   _You’re going to die_ , he told himself.   _You knew you were but you couldn’t say it.  Now you’re saying it._

He reached for his phone.   _Call Isak._ But no.  No, he couldn’t do that.  He couldn’t screw with Isak’s head anymore.   _Fuck._ He was a fucking… _parasite_ , a leech that sucked the emotions from someone purer and better than him.  He had been for months now.  He’d played Isak like they’d been in an abusive relationship for _months_.  

_I know you might not want to talk about this in front of Even in case he has another episode because of you._

“Stop it,” he sobbed, clutching his head.

_You didn’t reply so I assumed… well, I’m sorry if it came out wrong._

He was so intelligent.  That’s what people had told him his entire life.   _Such an intelligent boy_.   _And so dedicated to the subjects he feels passionate about_.  He’d used every inch of his intelligence to hurt Isak, to hurt Even, simply because he felt alone.  And now?  It had been for nothing.  Because Isak would _never_ want him.  He wanted to be with someone who didn’t play games; someone who burned brightly and genuinely in a world full of people faking sincerity.

Isak didn’t want an abuser.  He needed someone pure and good, someone like Even.

And if Jonas accepted that, he would have no purpose.  He would have nothing to make his life even remotely… remotely worth living.

He pressed the bottle to his lips. _Finish it._  His throat refused to swallow and he dropped it beside him, the glass shattering on the concrete.  It was time, he thought.  Soon he wouldn’t remember anything and he would never hurt again.  He wouldn’t feel this constant pain within himself but most of all he wouldn’t hurt Isak… ever again.

He laid down, his face pressing into the glass; he welcomed the pain as it cut through the numbness of his body.  Darkness came in waves; he opened his eyes, he readjusted; the darkness came back, he fell into it.

The spray from the water had soaked him through and his body curled up as though it was trying to protect itself, like it hadn’t given up hope of getting out of this alive.  He looked up into the starless, black sky above him and closed his eyes.  He smiled as the darkness became a solid mass around him.

 

***

 

They’d gone to Tromsø when they were 11: Isak and Jonas, with Jonas’s family.  His sister Astrid, eight at the time and already a huge pain in the arse, trailed after them, her eyes drinking in Isak with wonder.  She called him an angel and he’d laughed shyly and played with her as Jonas rolled his eyes, annoyed that she was taking his friend away for even a minute of their time together.  It was special, Isak coming with them.

It was special because they hadn’t even been best friends for long: they’d met at their new school and they had become inseparable in just a few short months.  Everyone remarked on how cute it was, how they never wanted to be out of the company of the other for too long.  And Jonas knew that Isak needed him.  Isak’s mum had what his own mum called ‘grown up problems’ and because of that, Isak was sometimes sad when he came to school.  When Jonas played at Isak’s house - which he honestly preferred because they were left on their own more - official looking people would ocasionally come and visit and check everything was okay.  Considering they were ‘grown up’ problems, it seemed like there were a lot of problems for Isak, too.

So when his mum had suggested that maybe Isak had come on holiday with them, Jonas had almost wet himself with excitement; he remembered listening in from the hiding point at the top of the stairs as she spoke to Isak’s dad on the phone.  He’d heard the positive tone of her voice and bashed his fists against his knees as he tried to keep his laughter and happiness in.  He’d gone straight up to his computer to talk to Isak.   _You’re coming?! You’re actually coming?!_

It was three nights into the holiday before they saw the Aurora from the cabin they were staying in.  Jonas’s parents woke the three of them, and they put on snow suits and headed out to the huge field at the back.  They fell down in the snow; Isak, Jonas and Astrid, while their parents had hung back, enjoying from a distance.

They’d huddled together even if that wasn’t what boys were supposed to do, because Astrid had been there and she was cold, and they’d stared up as the light displays ripped and pulsated across the sky.

“Where do they come from?” Astrid had asked.  “Do you think it’s angels?”

Jonas had laughed cruelly.  “It’s particles, Astrid.  From space.  You’re so dumb.”

“Shut up, butthead.”

“Where did you learn _that_?”

“From school.”  She sniffed.  “I still think it’s angels.”

“Me too,” Isak said.  “I think that’s a much better explanation than dumb old space particles.”

Jonas had hit him on the arm and they’d watched until they could no longer stand the cold.  When they stood up, Jonas had looked at Isak, still staring up with wide eyes, until he’d caught Jonas looking at him.  He smiled, shoved Jonas into the snow, and went down with him, as Astrid had screamed with delight above them.

 

***

 

When he woke up, it was to the smell of vomit at his nose, the feel of it on his face, and a feeling of despair penetrating every part of his body.

He sat up and looked around; the sun was beginning to come up over the water, the docks were still silent, and he was alone.

He let out a guttural noise of despair that ripped through his stomach and his chest, leaving him breathless.  He pressed a hand to his face, feeling fragments of glass pressed into it.  The contents of the vodka, of the pills, of his stomach generally, were beneath his knees.

This one thing.  This _one_ thing, he hadn’t been able to do right.

There was no real pain, even in his face. The pills had obviously had some effect.  He wanted to stay here and wait to die; he honestly considered flinging himself into the depths of the water and sinking to the bottom, but then he began to think about home: about his family looking for him, his body maybe never being recovered.

He started to cry, and he screamed again, and nobody heard him.

Somehow he made it to the emergency ward on Storgata; he had no idea how long it took to walk there but every part of his body ached by the time he arrived.  It was still the early hours of the morning and almost empty when he came in: they took one look at him and referred him through immediately to a female doctor who sat him down in a small cubicle, drew the curtain shut around them, and asked him what had happened.

“I got drunk and cut my face on some broken glass.”

“How drunk?”

“I don’t know.  I’m fine, though.  It’s just the glass.”

She nodded, looking at her watch distractedly, and went about extracting the fragments methodically with tweezers, dabbing disinfectant as she went.  He winced with each touch, but the pain was bearable.  “You’re lucky there are no stitches needed,” she said.  “Let this be a lesson to you.  Binge drinking at your age is _not_ a good look.”  She removed her gloves and reached for her prescription pad.  “You do need to keep this area treated.  There is the potential for infection if you don’t clean it regularly.  I recommend three times a day for the next week, and you must see your doctor if you notice anything unusual, or the pain intensifies.”

He nodded, and waited for her to write out the prescription.  “There is a pharmacy on site.  They should have this in stock.  Go and give this to them.”

She looked at him, clearly impatient for him to agree with what she’d said, so he gave a mechanical smile.  He even went and got the cream, and put it in his pocket.  It would ease his mum’s anger, at any rate, when she saw his face.

Despite throwing up the contents of his stomach he still felt sick as he headed home.  He didn’t know what happened next, what he was supposed to do now that he was still here, and still required to face the reality of the situation with Isak.  Maybe he would just try again tonight.

“Jonas, what the fuck?!” his sister said.  She’d passed him on the stairs as he was heading up to his room.  “What happened?”

“Don’t tell mum and dad,” he said automatically.

“Your face!” She looked at him in disbelief. “What _happened_?  Were you bottled or something?”

He nodded.  It was, bizarrely, a less worrying explanation than passing out a puddle of glass and vomit after attempting to kill himself.

“I’ve been to the doctor.  It’s fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”  She looked genuinely upset, and Jonas realised how young she was.  15, and wholly unaware of how dark life could get.  He reached out and touched the top of her hair.

“You dyed it again?”

She nodded. Her hair was a blend of sharp jewel colours, like a vivid Van Gough painting.  It fell softly against her shoulders. 

“Looks like the Aurora.”  He blinked, remembering his dream when he’d been out cold.  If he believed in signs, maybe he’d have taken this as a good one.  “You remember when we went to Tromsø and stayed at the cabin?”

“Yes.  And mum almost shouted the place down when you and Isak got into that play fight out in the snow.”

“Yeah.”  He smiled.

“I wish we could do that stuff again.  You never come on holiday with us anymore.”

Jonas considered that.  It had only been a few years since he’d stopped going, but he guessed for a fifteen year old that was practically a lifetime.  “Maybe I’ll come this year.”

She smiled and clapped her hands together, pretending she was a little kid again, and said, “Maybe you can bring Isak too.”  She had always had a crush on Isak, even now she knew he was gay.  Maybe it ran in the family.

He nodded and continued heading up to his room.  He lay in bed and felt his stomach turn.  The room swung around him which surprised him, because he was sure the alcohol and pills must have been out of his system by now.

He fell asleep, his aching limbs relaxing into the softness of his bed.

 

***

 

When he woke later, he didn’t feel the obvious effects of the comedown last week that had almost crippled him with pain and nausea: he simply and instinctively knew that something wasn’t right.  He felt as weak as a kitten; his thought process seemed to return to him and leave him almost as irregularly as his vision, and he had felt an acute, intense swelling in his chest that left him breathless but which he couldn’t attribute to physical pain, rather an impending sense of anxiety.

He hadn’t bothered to undress, so when he got up he simply peeled off the jumper he’d been wearing, the smell of vomit and specks of blood still attached, and replaced it with one he’d flung on the floor at some point.

Despite the haze inside his head, there was one clear idea that sliced through the fog: he needed to tell Isak everything.

He’d never be able to free himself from this situation until he confessed to all he’d done, because Isak would never stop caring about him until he confessed to all he’d done.   _Isak will never forgive me and that’s what I need from him_ , he realised.  Once Isak had deserted him, he’d be free to sink irrevocably into this numb oblivion where he only hurt himself.

He slipped on his shoes but forgot his coat: he only realised this when he’d been walking for ten minutes.  But that was okay.  He didn’t need a coat.  His body temperature seemed to shoot up to boiling and then back down to freezing within seconds.  He wondered what was wrong with him.  He had no drugs in his system, he’d thrown them all up.  

Perhaps he really was sick this time, as everyone assumed he’d been recently.  Or perhaps his body had finally given him up as a lost cause.

Everything spun and everything expanded as he fought his way up the stairs to Isak’s place.  He had to stand for a few seconds, or maybe it was longer, leaning against the wall to the stairwell and breathing in and out.

_Just do this and you can rest.  You can be at peace._

Once he got to the door he banged on it twice in quick succession.  Maybe he should have phoned before coming.  Maybe Isak wasn’t in.  He banged on the door again.  Eskild opened it a moment later, looking irritated.

“Okay, we heard you!”

“I need to speak to Isak,” he said, lunging forward.  Eskild shoved him back and looked at him closely.

“Are you _drunk_?  Fuck, Jonas, you _stink_.  What happened to your face?”

“I… I need to talk to him.”

“You can’t.  He’s in there with Even.”

Jonas blinked, and stared dumbly.  “Even?”

“He was distraught after you left last night, Jonas.  I’m not blaming you but he’s falling apart without Even.  Even’s been… we’ve been in contact since last week.  I told him to come over.  And I think they might be trying to work through things, so you need to leave,” Eskild told him firmly.

Jonas tried to understand what Eskild was saying.  Even… Even was _here_?  Even was here.  He hadn’t left Isak.  He wanted to help him, to make things better.  He smiled, happy, because that made this even easier.  He would be able to tell both of them.  He would be able to confess what he’d done to Isak and the person he had tried to hurt in order to get to Isak.  And afterwards, Isak would have someone to hold him, to tell him he wasn’t alone.

It was perfect.  It was just what he needed to do.

He lunged past, down the hall, and Eskild let out a yell of surprise before trying to push him back.  “What on earth is wrong with you?” Eskild was asking him, but Jonas wasn’t listening: he _needed_ to see them.  He pushed back blindly and heard a clatter, a yell of indignation.

“Jonas!” Eskild hollered after him as he followed him down the hall.  “I told you, you can’t-”

Jonas flung open the door to Isak’s bedroom and stopped.  He took in Isak, huddled at the end of his bed, and Even sitting next to him, his arm around him as he smiled softly.   “Hello,” Jonas said, and Eskild came in after him, his hands flung up in a gesture of hopelessness.

“Jonas,” Isak said, standing up.  “What’s wrong?”

“I need to speak to you both.”

“He almost _assaulted_ me,” Eskild said from behind him.  “I told him you were in here with Even but he _rudely_ barged past me and-”

“It’s okay,” Isak said.  “It’s fine.  We… we should talk about last week anyway.”  He looked more closely at Jonas and frowned.  “You’re sick?  What’s wrong?”

“No, I-”

“Sit down,” Isak said.  He guided him over to the bed, next to Even, who stood up immediately with a bemused expression on his face.  “Do you need some water?”

He looked at Even, then Eskild, both of them looking at him with… resentment, maybe?  He couldn’t tell.  He nodded his head.  He really _did_ need water.

As soon as Isak had edged past Eskild to go out to the kitchen, Even growled at him, low and threatening, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I need to talk to him.”

“You can’t just barge in and impose yourself like this.”

“Don’t-”  Jonas shook his head, trying to clear it.   _I’m here to make amends,_ he reminded himself.  “I mean, you… you’ve _ignored_ him for a week.  You can’t just -”

“What?  Finish the sentence?  I can’t just turn up when I’m drunk and emotional and fuck Isak’s head up even more?” Even spat out angrily.  Eskild coughed conspicuously and they looked up to see Isak coming back into the room.  He handed Jonas the glass but he gripped it with difficulty.

“You really should see a doctor,” Isak said, worried.  “Shall I call your parents, or…?”

“I need to talk to you,” Jonas repeated.  Isak nodded, looking from Even to Eskild.

“But we should talk about last week, shouldn’t we?  Because we were all there?  And Even… Even didn’t deal with it well, and he’s still affected, and I’m… I don’t want to lose him over this.  So maybe we could… try to draw a line under it?”

Jonas blinked.  “What the _fuck_ do you want to talk about?” he asked, suddenly, irrationally angry that Isak wanted to return to this, to fucking _justify_ Even’s behaviour this week.

Even let out a growl of frustration.  “Look, I don’t fucking _care_ if you’re sick, or drunk, or whatever the fuck you are.   _Don’t_ talk to him like that.”

“You should have been here,” Jonas said to Even.   _You’re deflecting_ , his mind slurred at him.  “You should have been here... earlier... when he needed you.  You left him to me and I’ve fucked him up even more and...”

The glass slipped from his hand as Even made a move towards him with an angry expression on his face: Isak huddled against the wall, frightened, and Eskild quickly placed himself between Even and Jonas.

“Stop it.  Both of you.”

“No!” Jonas said.   _I’m going to faint, I need to do this before I faint_.  “I don’t care what was… happening in his… his fucking head.  Whether it was an episode of depression... or whatever the fuck… I don’t _care_.  But.... he left Isak.  Why aren’t you angry?  Why isn’t _anyone_ angry?  Isak was almost raped and Even… he _dumped_ him.  He couldn’t even… couldn’t even… couldn’t be bothered to tell him that he dumped him.  He left it to...”

Even started to cry.  It was the first time Jonas had seen him do it: when he looked at Isak he figured that maybe it was the time Isak had seen it as well, judging by the horrified expression on his face.

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t do it.  I almost killed him.  You don’t just get to almost kill someone and then walk away and pretend it’s fine.”

“He _deserved_ it,” Jonas argued, the words slurred and muffled in his head.  “You should have _finished_ the job.”

Even continued to shudder with sobs.  “That isn’t how it works.”

“How does it work?” There was a roaring in his head but he persisted.

“You can’t kill someone… almost kill someone… and have it go back to normal the next day.  Especially when you’ve got bipolar and everything is magnified to this _insane_ point.”  Even looked from Isak to Eskild desperately.  “I didn’t feel like _me_ when I was attacking him.  I felt for the first time like my illness had totally won.  Like I was an animal.  And I didn’t want to put Isak anywhere near it.  I wanted to protect him from ever seeing me like that again.”

“Even,” Eskild started, “we were all there.  We all let you do it, we all walked away from that… that _monster_.”

“None of you lost control, though!  And none of you had to… had to watch the footage back afterwards.  You didn't need to see the things that Elias did to Isak before we arrived, and know deep down you’d do it all again.  That was just me. I had to watch that and listen to that security guard call me a hero as I tried not to trash every TV screen in that room.”

“You saw?” Isak asked.  “You watched us?”  He looked shocked: presumably they hadn’t got to this revelation before Jonas had interrupted them.

Even nodded mechanically, and Isak crumpled against the wall, his face twisting in misery.  Jonas blinked, the blackouts getting progressively longer; he’d barely understood what Even had been saying; he knew he was going to go completely in a minute and he considered this all irrelevant: he _had to explain._

“It was me,” he said.  They all looked at him, Isak’s anxious face clouding in confusion.  Isak was the only thing he could look at.  “It was my fault.  All of it.”

“As much as I wish that was true - ” Even started to say, “It wasn’t -”

“LISTEN,” he snarled.  “Fucking _listen_.”

He watched Isak’s mouth fall open slightly.

“I have to tell you.  I have to tell you both.”  He pressed his fingers to his temple, pressed in to try and keep himself alert.  “I have to tell you I was in love with you, Isak, but not just that... I was obsessed... with you.  I was… I had feelings for you that weren’t good.  Weren’t…” _Tell him. You’re going to die. Tell him so he won’t care._ “So I went back to Elias. I told him, told him about… about Even.  I knew Even would hurt him.  I… I talked to Elias about you...  made him hungry for you...  I encouraged him...  I encouraged him that night.  I thought… I thought you would be safe.  That I’d protect you, and I didn’t.”

The floor came up to meet him and he heard Isak crying: he heard Even saying _no, don't touch him_  as he fell to his knees, bringing his hands to his stomach.  “I tried to fuck you last night because... I wanted you so bad. I tried to take advantage of you….  and...”

He heard a sharp noise, Isak sobbing, his warm hands in Jonas’s hair, begging him.   _Look at me_.

He saw the castle.  He saw the beach near the cabin.  He saw the docks, he saw the parties, the fights… Isak huddling into him the day after his dad had left.  He saw the Aurora, felt Isak’s hand in his… his breath rattled… his mind shut down until he saw nothing but darkness that wiped all these memories away like unseen tears in the rain.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay on this, hopefully it's worth the wait!
> 
> Just a general note: I'm obviously not a doctor (no, really?!) and I have no fucking clue about medical procedures beyond what I Google. So. I've tried to keep the medical references to a minimum here without ignoring the fact that there is obviously stuff that has to be clarified. Hopefully nothing is glaringly wrong, but feel free to kindly tell me if I've written anything offensively stupid. :P

Voices.  Speaking fast, garbled, at a distance.  A low mechanical beep: continuous and comforting.  Rustling.  Footsteps walking up and down - clack clack clack against tiles.

He saw nothing.  He saw darkness.

Crying.  That was next.  Crying like it would never stop.  Laboured and insistent and someone _shhhing_ , and then lungs heaving, sobs lowering, coming to a reluctant halt.

He moved his hand.  He could do that.  But it didn’t feel right.  Maybe he hadn’t moved it at all.

“Did you see that?!  He moved his hand.  Mum, he moved his hand!”

 _Open your eyes_ , he told himself.

 _No_.

_Why not? Open them and see what’s happening._

_I don’t want to know what’s happening.  I know I’m not dead so I don’t want to know what’s happening._

And then: “Jonas, please, baby, talk to me.”

His mum.  No.  No, he didn’t want her to see him like this.   _Stop it, stop it, stop it._

Someone took his hand and squeezed.  He knew he was supposed to squeeze back.  He couldn’t squeeze back.

“It’s all my fault,” his sister sobbed.  His baby sister  was blaming herself for this ruin he’d become and he didn’t understand why.

“Stop that,” his father said.  “It’s nobody’s fault.  It’s certainly not yours.”

_It’s mine.  It’s all mine.  It’s always my fault._

“Jonas,” his mum said again.  “My sweet baby boy.  Please, just squeeze my hand.”

No.   _No no no._  He buried down deeper into his brain, into the blackness that his brain had become.  He stayed there, unseeing and unfocused, listening to the rhythm of the electronic beeping and the static inside his head.   _I will never come out._  Not for his mum, not for his sister, not even if he heard Isak.

“How did this happen?  How have I been so blind?” his mum asked, but he zoned out, he was so far away, he was asleep in the snow, sinking so deeply into it he knew he would never be found, that he would be entombed here until he finally died.

 

***

 

_“...worrying amount of drugs in his system, some illegal… prescription….”_

_“...possible… I don’t understand…”_

_“....severe dehydration….”_

_“...cardiovascular…”_

_“...no that isn’t…”_

_“...potential damage to the…”_

_“...how long has this….”_

_“...rapid deterioration… huge amounts…”_

More sobbing.  More pleas for him to wake up.  His dad, yelling.

“ _STOP BEING SO SELFISH._ ”

Further.  He sank further into the snow.  He was going to die here.  He needed to die here.

 

***

 

Eva’s voice reached him.  Her warm hand was in his; he knew it almost as well as his own.

“Stop being a jerk,” she was telling him, low and wet and scratchy.  “Just wake the fuck up and tell me how we all missed this.  Make me feel bad.   _Please_.”  She sobbed.  “You’re so stupid.  You’re blind.  We all love you so much.”

A haze hit him: static noise and tiredness.  He couldn’t open his eyes even if he wanted to.

 

***

 

Except he did.  He wasn’t sure how much time passed but one moment he was engulfed in darkness and the next his eyes were adjusting to the blinding light around him.  He felt an immediate tension at his eyelids; he fluttered them back shut.  There were hushed voices, and he tried again, and then he felt someone squeeze his hand and he wrenched free.

There was an IV drip somewhere, tubes in his nose: he yanked them free, writhing about in his bed.

 _This stuff is keeping me alive.  I don’t want to be alive_.

The voices rose in pitch: he heard footsteps clattering towards him, firm hands holding him down.  Someone weeping, begging him: _Stop Jonas please stop._

They tried to reattach the tubes, he swiped out blindly, until more hands held him.

“I want to die,” he said, but maybe only in his head.  “Please let me die.”

“We’ll have to sedate you, Jonas, if you don’t stop.  Please.  These are here to help you.”

He shook his head.  He didn’t want help.  He wanted to die.  He fought again, he felt something sink into his arm, he sank further still until his back was against the ground and the snow covered him like an avalanche.

 

***

 

When he opened his eyes for the second time he felt calmer, and well rested.  The lights were dimmer than they had been the first time.  He saw his mum at his bedside: he stared at her, wanting to say something, but his mouth hurt to speak.  He rasped something; he wasn’t even sure what.

“Here,” she said, holding a cup with a straw to his mouth.  She squeezed it and a trickle came out; he gulped it down and she gave him more.  “Take your time.  It’s okay.”

He took in the dark circles under her eyes, the exhausted expression.

“Do you know where you are? _Why_ you’re here, baby?” she asked.  He looked at her.

“You had a seizure.  They found -” She sucked in a breath. “They found a large amount of drugs in your system.  They think it was a suicide attempt.”  She held her hands up to her face, trying to cover her fresh tears.  “Why did you do this?  Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically.  “For everything.”

She cried harder, and then there were people joining her: he looked up to see his dad, his stern expression faltering slightly when he saw Jonas was awake, Astrid running to the bedside and kneeling down beside him, trembling in pure relief.

“You have _nothing_ to apologise for,” his mum said.  “We’re the ones who should be-”

Jonas tried to shake his head but found it difficult to move. He couldn’t hear this.  He couldn’t listen to apologies for his own moral failures.

“I hid it all from you.”

“But it was our responsibility as parents to _see_.”

He looked at his dad and something flickered within his memory.   _Selfish_.  

His dad knew the truth, at least.  When he looked at him he saw the disappointment in his eyes.  He _was_ selfish, but he’d thought the least selfish thing to do was kill himself.  Now he didn’t know what to think, other than he was still alive and that was the worst thing of all.

“You should have just left me,” he said.  “All this stuff… it’s unnecessary.  I just want to die.”

His mum stood up and left the room; he swivelled his head as far as he could to watch her leave, his dad close behind. He heard a loud wail of despair as the door swung shut.  He looked back to see Astrid still there, crouching at the side of his bed.  Her head was resting on her arms but she was peering up at him, her vivid hair framing her wan face.

“Why are you saying that?”

He didn’t speak.  He didn’t want to hurt her.

“Jonas, please.  We’re so worried about you.  Mum’s been hysterical these last two days.”

He blinked at her.  “I’ve only been here for two days?”

She nodded.  “That was a long time, though.  We didn’t know if you were going to wake up.”

It felt like he’d been within himself, within the snow, for weeks. Months, even.  He’d expected everything to have changed, and the realisation that literally _nothing_ would have during the time he’d been admitted here made him feel even more despairing.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked.  “Do you want me to tell you?  Do you have any questions?”

He shook his head gently and stared straight ahead.

Eventually a doctor came in, carrying a clipboard with papers attached.  “You’ve made your family very worried,” she told him, her voice practised and mild.  “Perhaps your sister wants to go and get a drink now that you’re awake?”

He looked at Astrid and nodded, and she reluctantly pulled away from his bed.  She leant over nervously and kissed him on the forehead and then left the room.  Moments later, his mum came back through.

The doctor asked him some questions about how he was feeling which he answered perfunctorily; she wrote things down on her paper, checked the machine he was wired to, and left the room.  His mum looked at him, took a deep breath, and sat in the chair next to his bed.

“Are you able to talk?”

“I’m not… _not_ talking.”

“Are you able to be honest, then?”

He gave a tiny nod.

“Did you mean to overdose?”

He nodded again.  She swallowed sharply and then returned his nod.

“Okay.  Can you tell me why?”

He shrugged, though he could barely move his arms.  

“You don’t know?  You just… did it... because you were bored, or something?”  She didn’t say it with any judgement, she was simply trying to understand.

He wondered whether she even wanted to hear the truth.   _I did it because I fell in love with the most beautiful boy in the world, and he didn’t love me back._ It would kill her.  She’d known Isak since he was 11 years old: she was almost as used to seeing him around the house as she was Jonas.  She cared about him wholeheartedly and she would be disgusted if she knew what Jonas had put him through.

Maybe he wanted her to be disgusted.

“I did it because… I did some bad things.”

“Your addiction?”

He flinched.  Well, obviously the doctors had run tests.

“Not that.  That was just a… I don’t know.  A way to control everything.”

“What could you have possibly done that was worth _this_ , Jonas?  Please, tell me so I can begin to understand.”  Her voice cracked slightly, the neutrality slipping.  He could see how desperate she was to process what had happened and begin to make sense of it.

_Tell her._

“I hurt Isak.  I did some really… really bad things to him.”

She looked confused.  “What sort of bad things?  Did you have a fight?”

He laughed without sound, just an empty convulsion in his body, and then said,  “No.”

“What, then?”

He would have to tell her.  He would have to say that Isak had been raped, by one of Jonas’s own friends, that Jonas had taken that experience and twisted it into something uglier still.  He blinked, not knowing what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to hurt her like that.  His head felt like it should be aching but instead it was  empty, like there was so much space in here, so much exposure, he couldn’t bear it.

He took the coward's way out and remained silent.

“It was Isak and his friends who called the ambulance,” his mum said cautiously.  “If you said some things before it happened… things that were out of character… nobody would blame you.  You were very, very sick, baby.  You could have…” She swallowed again.  “You could have died.”

He nodded, letting her think that his actions towards Isak were justifiable in some way.

“I did ask him to come in but I think you really frightened him.  Eva came by, though.  Wasn’t that nice of her?  She still loves you very much.”

_Nobody loves me._

“We’re all so relieved that you… that you’re going to pull through this.”

_I’m not going to pull through this._

“Astrid kept blaming herself.  She said that you were acting strangely when she saw you on Saturday and that she should have told us.  And I told her the same thing I’ll tell you: this isn’t your fault.  I know you don’t want to hear me blame myself but I should have noticed.  I should have known, as a mother, instinctively, that something wasn’t right.”

He tried not to let the words into his head.  If he let them in they would hurt him, and he would use them to hurt her.  He stared straight ahead.  

_They won’t get into your head.  Nobody will._

“Jonas, please talk to me?  Can you maybe tell me how you’re feeling now?”

He finally looked at her; he stared her dead in the eye.  He’d said it once and he said it for a second time, simply so she could understand.  “I told you.  I just want to die.”

 

***

 

The doctor came back not long after.  His dad was with her; he put his arm around his mum, and they listened as the doctor spoke.

The doctor told him that he was very lucky to be alive.  That he’d had a massive seizure caused by the excessive amounts of drugs and alcohol he’d been taking recently, and that he also had some liver damage.  She told him that he’d also been at risk of brain damage as a result of the seizure but they’d managed to get to him in time.  She told him that he’d been stable for the last two days but his body was weak and he would need at least a week of recovery time at the hospital.

She told him that if he didn’t stop drinking, if he didn’t stop abusing these pills, he would almost certainly need a liver transplant within the next couple of years.  And that next time the seizure might do some serious damage to his brain.

His mum wept as the doctor went through this checklist of ailments.  When she’d finished scaring him, her tone became gentler and she talked about the help that was available to him.  Help for addiction.  Help for trauma and suicidal thoughts.  Help for people his age.

He pretended to take it on board.  He didn’t deserve help and he wasn’t going to accept it.  But she didn’t need to hear that.  This woman was nobody to him, and he was just a number to her.

His parents stayed with him for a few more hours: eventually his dad went home to check on Astrid, who he’d taken back earlier.  He wanted to tell his mum to go too but that was pointless.  There was a camp bed in the corner of the room and she eventually settled down into it after kissing his cheek and stroking back his hair.

When he looked out of the window he saw that it was dark outside.

“It’s Tuesday?” he asked her.  She nodded.

“I’m missing school.”

She seemed to visibly brighten at that, though he hadn’t meant anything much by it, simply that it felt odd to be here knowing that Isak, Even, Eva… all of them… would have been at Nissen today, would be going tomorrow, while he laid in a hospital bed, wired up to a drip and empty inside.

“It won’t be long before you go back.  In no time at all you’ll be feeling more like your old self, and -”

“I’m never going back there,” he said.

His mum sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him.  “No?”

“No.  I’m done.”

She nodded.  “Okay, if that’s what you want.  We’ll discuss this tomorrow, maybe?”

He could see how tired she was and he looked away from her.  He heard her settling down into the bed, falling asleep within minutes.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her sleeping; there were frown lines around her mouth, creases at her eyes.  She’d probably aged ten years these last couple of days, and that was down to him.

He sank into the silence of the room but didn’t sleep again for the rest of the night.

 

***

 

By Thursday he felt stir crazy.  They’d taken the drip away and he was doing some light physiotherapy to get some feeling back in his legs.  He could walk short distances, such as to the toilet and back, and that became his only form of excitement for the day.  His parents were still tag-teaming at the hospital; one would leave as the other arrived, and they would sit and talk to him or just work from their laptops.

His dad had arrived that morning and, when his mum had gone, said gruffly, "I know I haven't said very much to you, Jonas but... I love you very much.  I'm sorry if I haven't shown it very well over the years."

Jonas made a display of holding his hand up to his head, checking his temperature as though he was hallucinating.  His dad rolled his eyes and smiled.

Later, his dad went down to the hospital coffee shop to get something to eat and take advantage of the Wi-Fi , and Eva came by.  She stood at the door, a bunch of flowers in her hands; something yellow and pretty and so _not_ Jonas that he actually smiled at the absurdity of the gesture.  She was heartened by this, though, and came over to his bedside, kissing him on the lips chastely for several seconds, her fingers resting on his cheekbones.

“You arsehole,” she said, when she was settled into the chair.  “I can’t believe you went through this alone.”

“Well, I couldn’t do it with anyone around,” he pointed out.  She shook her head, huffing slightly.

“I mean your… your depression?  That’s what this was, right?  The drug addiction?  We all knew something was wrong but… we never asked you.  You should have told us.  Me!  You should have at least told me, Jonas!”

He shrugged.  He was now able to move all of his limbs, albeit stiffly, and the shrug was a useful weapon in his arsenal of non-committal actions.

“You don’t get it, do you?  You won’t even believe me when I tell you how much I love you.”

He turned his focus away from her; from her pretty, flashing eyes and the anxious frown on her beestung lips.  Words were cheap.  If she’d loved him she wouldn’t have left him.  She’d left him because she knew he wasn’t capable of love; she loved Chris, _Penetrator Chris_ , more than she loved him at this point, and it wasn’t her fault, it was just that way it was.

“Please, tell me you understand me.  That you understand how much we all care for you?”

“We?” he asked.  She looked at him challengingly, tears catching at the ends of her eyelashes.

“Yes, _we_.  Me, Magnus, Mahdi, Vilde - Vilde is distraught by this! And Isak.  Isak most of all.”

“Did he… did he tell you?  What I did?”

She shook her head but he knew that she’d found out anyway.

“Even?”

“No.  It doesn’t matter who.  The point is, you think you’re alone, and that’s why you did this.  You think that Isak doesn’t love you, so you pressed your self destruct button and hoped for the worst.  But Isak _does_ love you.  We all do.  And not the crappy kind of love where you fuck someone and think they’re going to be yours forever.  The kind of love where, even when we’re forty, we’ll still be talking about these _crazy days_ at Nissen and how awesome it was, and how much we miss each other.   _That_ kind of love.”

_Lies._

“It’s a nice story,” he said throatily.  The tears began to slip down her face and she exhaled shakily.

“I get it.  We didn’t tell you enough that we loved you.  We let you slip away and we didn’t show you how much you mean to us.  And _that’s_ on all of us.  But we’re going to fix this.  We’re going to show you that we need you, that this world would be a pile of shit if you’re not in it.”

_Lies._

“I don’t want that, though.  I just want to be alone.”

“Well, tough shit.  I’m not going anywhere.”

And she was as good as her word.  She rummaged in her bag and brought some school books out: he recognised them as his own.  She piled them on the table next to his bed, keeping a new one he hadn’t seen before in her hands.

“I asked your teachers to give me some reading for you because I knew you’d be going stir crazy in here.  So, I’m going to read to you.  Okay?”

He didn’t answer, and she settled comfortably in her seat and read the first few chapters, stopping occasionally for water.  His dad popped his head round the door at one point and, seeing he had company, retreated back outside.  

He let her soothing voice lull him into a soft kind of rest that wasn’t sleep but wasn’t active awareness either.  It felt nice.  A little while later, they brought him some dinner and she glared at him until he ate it.  Then she began to read again

Eventually his mum came back for the night and she stood up to leave.  She hugged his mum and then looked at Jonas.

“I’ll be back soon.”

He shrugged, but it was kind of a relief to hear her say it.

 

***

 

Both his mum and dad had work commitments the next day that they couldn’t get out of, and they decided to trust him enough at this point to leave him on his own.  They’d brought him a few things from home to make him feel more settled; his blanket, some books, his portable radio which was playing in the background, drowning out the few thoughts he had, and was having, when Isak came to visit.

He looked pale and skinny and lost in his hoodie and Jonas instinctively wanted to reach out and pull him close, to hold and him and never let him go.  And at the same time that made him want to wrench himself free, to throw himself out of the nearest open window, because he knew as he looked at him that these feelings would _never_ leave and all of a sudden it felt exhausting and hopeless again.  He wanted no part of these emotions that seemed so vital and urgent and inescapable.

He stared straight ahead, his face blank, refusing to make eye contact.

“Eva said she came to visit and… well, I’m sorry for not being here sooner.”

_Ignore him. Don’t look at him._

“I wanted to but everyone told me it was a bad idea.”

_Everyone was right._

Isak took a deep breath.

“I needed you to know that I don’t care.  I don’t care what you did because I know you would never deliberately hurt me.  I don’t care why you did what you did.  I just care that you couldn’t talk to me about it.  That you did _this_ instead of just… being honest.”

“You think I did this because of you?” Jonas asked.  He had to make this work: he had to push Isak away, because Isak would never realise how toxic Jonas was for him.  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I do, yes.  I do think this was because of me.  And I’m not angry.  I just want to help you get better and -”

“Leave, Isak.”

“No.”

“I said _leave_ ,” Jonas said, his voice rising in warning.  Isak shook his head.

“You’re my best friend and I’m not walking away.”

_Hurt him.  Force him away._

“Of course you’re not.  Doormats don’t walk.  They get walked _on_ .  And that’s all you are, isn’t it, Isak?  You’re a pretty little doormat that people wipe their shit on.  You put up with _anything_ that guys like me and Elias do to you, and you say sorry to us as we’re doing it.”  He looked at him for a reaction; he saw the tears in his eyes and forced a mocking smile.  “I wanted to fuck you, okay?  I wanted to fuck you and take you away from Even, even though I’d have got bored of you within weeks, because you’re not all that interesting beyond fucking.  My feelings for you had _nothing_ to do with any of _this_ ,” he said, referring the hospital room, to his bed-ridden body.  “This was just… boredom.  It meant nothing.  Just a stupid mistake.  I wasn’t thinking of you at all.  The only time I think about you is when I’m imagining what you’d feel like when I slide my cock into your-”

Isak flung himself at Jonas, hitting and scratching at him as he sobbed.  And Jonas started to cry, too, realising how hopeless this was.  They needed each other and they couldn’t have each other in the way the other wanted, and they would dance this fucking dance forever if nothing changed.  He grabbed Isak’s wrists and pulled him away from his face; he held on as Isak struggled without force, his face angry but his body unfocused, and eventually he slumped to his knees and grabbed onto Jonas’s bedsheets, crying into his chest.

_Hopeless.  This is all hopeless._

Isak eventually sat up, wiping at his eyes, and slumped into the chair.  Jonas felt his face smarting; the newly opened scabs on his cheek began to seep.  Isak stared down at his feet in dismay.

“It’s not working,” Isak said.  “None of it is working.  We’re both fucked up and broken thanks to him and we’re going to have to work to get better.”

“Him?”

“Elias.”

“Elias hurt you, not me.”

Isak looked at him and laughed ironically.

“You really think that?”

“He didn’t do _anything_ to me, Isak.  I fucking… wish he had, if it meant you hadn’t gone through it.”

“If I’m going to accept what he did to me, you have to start admitting to yourself that he manipulated you as well, Jonas.  He used you for money, and to feel better about himself, and to get close to me.  And he did that by…” He looked at Jonas and sighed.  “I went to counselling yesterday.  Doctor Skrulle speeded it up because, well, that should be obvious.”  He shrugged, embarrassed.  “So.  My counsellor explained to me that what a predator chooses their… victim.  They won’t just groom that person.  They’ll also groom anyone who has the possibility of restricting access to them.”

“He didn’t _groom_ me, Isak.  That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“I mean, for one thing, I met him before he met you.  If he only used me to get at you, how would he even have known?  Why would he have bothered staying in contact with me?”

Isak looked at him strangely.  “We met on the same night.”

“No, we didn’t.”  Jonas returned the bewildered expression.  “I met him the night I got together with Eva.  You weren’t even there.”

Isak laughed humorlessly.  “Yes, I was.”

“I think I’d have remembered!”

“Well clearly not.  You were off your face.  And I was… I was upset, because you’d gone straight from Ingrid to Eva without… you know, even looking at me.  Not that you would have done, but… I was drunk and sulking and just generally trying to stay out of your way because I didn’t want to say anything stupid.”

“Then how did Elias know we were friends?”

“I came outside to find you and he was there, trying to get you to buy some more drugs from him.  But you were a mess, you were barely able to talk.  I tried to get you to come home with me and he… he started asking me questions.  About whether we were friends.”

“What else?”

Isak shook his head.  “I shouldn’t be going into detail.  This isn’t what you need to hear.”

“But I _need_ to know what he did,” Jonas said.  Isak looked at him, debating this, and nodded.

“He didn’t… he didn’t _force_ me that night, if that’s what you mean.  But he… he started asking more personal questions.  Just kind of regular stuff to start with like how old I was, where I went to school, how I knew you.  You’d kind of slumped on the bench at that point and he became more confident.  He asked me whether I’d sucked you off, and if I liked to suck cock; he tried to give me some weed and said I could have it if I was ‘nice’ to him. I just kept trying to laugh it off, but I didn’t want to leave you alone and he wouldn’t stop.”

“I can’t remember getting home that night,” Jonas realised.  Isak shrugged.

“Eva came out eventually, and Elias went off somewhere, and we managed to convince you to leave.”

Jonas reflected on this.  “So you’re saying he only used me to get to you?  That’s what your counsellor believes?”

“Not _only_.  But… I don’t think he saw you as a friend?  I don’t mean to say that in a horrible way, because to be honest, why would you want someone like that to be friends with you?”  He grimaced.  “I just think that if he was able to brainwash me into thinking I deserved what he did, you spent way more time with him, and he kept giving you drugs and… I just think he had a more profound effect on you than you realise.”

Jonas nodded.  He had no idea what to make of Isak’s theory but it gave him something small - something _tiny_ to think about, to test within his head.  “Okay.  That’s… well.”  He shrugged.  What else was there to say?

Isak’s expression changed then, he became visibly nervous, and he bit into his lip before taking a breath and nodding, trying to psych himself up. “There’s something else you should know.”

Jonas raised a cautious eyebrow.

“Someone reported Elias to the police for supplying drugs.  The police searched his house and found his stash but also…” he took a deep breath, “also stuff on his laptop and phone.  Stuff he’d taken without people’s consent.  Videos and photos.  That kind of thing.  There was also… he’d filmed stuff with me.  Lots of it.  Some I was aware of and some I wasn’t.”

Jonas nodded only once, to indicate he was still listening.  His heart began to speed up: he hadn’t missed this feeling.

“I knew he’d filmed me at the cabin.  It… it was one of the reasons I was upset, because I thought he might show it to you.  I knew there were other times, a few other times… nothing, like, as extreme... but he’d kiss me sometimes, and film it.”  He sighed, wiping his tired eyes.  “Some of it was at parties, and some of it was when I was… like, in coffee shops, or outside of my home.  Basically he’d been following me.  And I didn’t know about that, at all.”

Jonas squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the fear he still felt inside of him, that had never really left.  “So the police contacted you?”

He nodded.  “They were able to find me through his internet activity… they found out what school I went to and everything.  I was pulled out of lessons on Tuesday and they told me what they were investigating and that I could press charges.  But the state would be pressing charges anyway because there were videos and photos of others, too.  Some were even younger than me.”  He blinked away tears and changed tone, becoming more decisive.  “So, I’ve just given a witness statement.  I don’t think I want to go into all the… you know, the rest of it.  And I really need to.  They’ve got enough evidence against him, they told me there’s no way he won’t be found guilty.”

“So you’ve accepted it now?  That he… he raped you?”

It came out so much blunter than Jonas had intended, but it was out and it was something he needed to know.  There was a long silence.  Finally, Isak nodded, and said, “It still doesn’t feel right in my brain.  I still want to argue when I hear you say it.  But gradually, I’m starting to see there are other… other ways of looking at it.  That just because I’ve clung onto one way last year, that doesn’t mean it’s the right way.”

The information that Isak had given him worked itself into his brain and he found himself shaking, not understanding how he was going to process and deal with all of this.  Isak immediately looked guilty, reaching over and taking his hand.

“I shouldn’t have told you all of this, should I?  I just thought… maybe it would help.  It’s good news, isn’t it?  We haven’t had much of that in a while.”

“Yeah, it’s good news,” Jonas said throatily.  He squeezed Isak’s hand and Isak looked down at it and smiled.  

“It doesn’t change what I did, though,” Jonas continued.  “I went to him, I knew how he was talking about you, and-”

“Look… just... do me a favour, okay?  Talk to someone.  Get help.  If you still believe you don’t deserve my forgiveness after that, I’ll listen.  I promise.”  He raised an eyebrow, smiled slightly, and said, “Besides, you kind of owe me.  So if you really want to make it up to me, do that by doing what I’m trying to do.  Get better, Jonas.”

 

***

 

That night, as his dad snored softly in the camp bed, he thought about everything that Isak had told him today, and everything Eva had told him the day before.  He found himself reaching for one of the notepads she’d brought him from school; he opened it up and stared at the page.  He'd always written when he was struggling to understand something: he found that the more he wrote, the more he realised he understood.  So he pressed the pen to the page and scrawled down the following:

 

**New Year’s Resolutions, almost a month too late**

 

  1. I’m going to be a better person
  2. I’m going to do that by not harming my body anymore
  3. I’m also going to do it by not harming others, mentally or physically
  4. I’m going to get professional help from a therapist
  5. I’m going to be a better friend
  6. I’m going to be a better son and brother
  7. I’m not going to do this for anyone but myself



 

He stared at the list, almost crossed it out, then sighed and closed the book.  

It was there if he needed it.  Just because he'd written it, that didn't mean anything had changed.  Just because he felt less alone today, that didn't mean he wouldn't feel the bleak and relentless grip of loneliness tomorrow.

He looked out of the window and saw that it had began to snow; even through the darkness he could see the gleaming reflection of it against the pane of glass.

He turned off the light, pulled his blanket up, and sank dreamlessly into the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: DiscoNight_01  
> CC: https://curiouscat.me/DiscoNight_01
> 
> :-)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the latest chapter. I appreciate that comments might not be as forthcoming now that we're into the recovery part of the fic but if you are still reading I would really just love to know your thoughts, however brief. <3 Thank you as always to the ridiculously lovely responses I've received throughout.
> 
> And this is probably a little cheeky but some kind soul has set up a kink meme at LJ: please go and post/fill to your heart's content! http://skam-kink.livejournal.com/580.html
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this chapter: Some frank talk about rape, suicide and drug addiction within a therapy session, and some brief but disturbing allusions to rape.

When Eva had told him that his friends would be showing him how much they needed him, she had apparently been speaking in the literal sense.  She brought Vilde along on Saturday morning -  _ distraught  _ Vilde who he’d probably never had a proper conversation with - and he was shocked to see how she looked at this current moment; no makeup, her hair dishevelled, wearing tracksuit bottoms (Jonas would never have guessed a girl like Vilde even owned a pair of tracksuit bottoms), her eyes red and puffy.

“This isn’t good,” Vilde told him.  Eva raised her eyebrows and inclined her head in a  _ told you so  _ expression and sat down with a small little smirk on her face (hidden from Vilde, of course), as Vilde ranted at him for fifteen minutes straight.

“You should have said something,” she said at one point, but when Jonas opened his mouth to explain that nobody had asked, Vilde simply continued to talk at speed.  “I feel as though I should have picked up on something.  I was the only girl spending any time with you,” (Eva stifled a laugh at this), “and boys are just terrible at seeing this sort of thing.  I feel as though I’ve failed you.”

“You didn’t fail me, Vilde,” Jonas finally managed to butt in.  Vilde looked at him and sniffled.  “I’m very good at hiding things.”

“You’re not, though.  You were looking too thin and your face looked a bit gross, no offence, and sometimes you smelt really bad.”

He bit his lip.   _ That’s fine _ , he told himself.   _ That’s relatively small scale compared to the other problematic shit you did. _

“I knew something was wrong that night at  _ Pulse _ but then the thing happened with Isak and…” She wiped at her eyes, “Well, I know things haven’t been good for him either but maybe it was easier for us to look after him because it was obvious he needed it.  Sometimes it isn’t always obvious and then you don’t know what you have until you don’t have it anymore.”

Jonas tried not to laugh.  “I’m not actually dead,  _ Joni Mitchell _ .”

_ You wanted to be yesterday morning _ , his brain helpfully reminded him.

For once, he told his brain to shut the fuck up.

 

***

 

And then Magnus and Mahdi came by Monday afternoon with sheepish expressions on their faces and a huge stash of chocolates and sweets in their rucksacks which they promptly dumped on the table in the corner of the room.

“Peace offering.”

“Yeah, you should be apologising.  You couldn’t cut school to see me?  Even Vilde got here before you two.”

“We’re guys, we don’t deal with stressful emotional situations,” Mahdi said.  “Eva literally yelled at us in front of the whole common room when she found out we hadn’t been yet.”  

They settled easily into the chairs.  Jonas was propped up at his bed, a book on his lap that Eva had brought him yesterday: he had a few more chapters left to read.  He put it aside and looked across at the chocolate.

“Are you going to get that?”

“Oh, fuck, sorry, man,” Magnus said, jumping up.  “Forgot you’re an invalid!”

Jonas declined to tell him that he could walk just fine, and that if anything he needed the exercise.  Magnus brought back a handful and dumped it on his bed and they duly began working their way through the pile.

“So how have things been without me?” Jonas asked through a mouthful.  They both shrugged in unison and Jonas looked at them in feigned bemusement.

“Nothing to report?”

“Well…” Magnus looked across at Mahdi for back-up.  “We don’t know how much stress we’re allowed to put you through.  Maybe we should talk about… I don’t know?  Any bangable nurses in here?”

“ _ Magnus _ ,” Jonas said warningly.  “What’s going on?”

Mahdi rolled his eyes.  “Seeing as we still don’t know shit about what’s happened between you and Isak, it’s kind of hard to know where to start?  We don’t want to, like, make this situation worse.”

“I’m literally lying in a hospital bed after attempting to kill myself.  I’m not sure the situation can get much worse.”

“But you seem okay?” Magnus said.  “I mean, you’re up and you’re talking.  We thought you’d be pretty much… you know… unresponsive.  Not brain dead, I mean, nothing like that.  Just, refusing to talk and shit.”

“Well,” Jonas looked down at the chocolate in his hand and wondered whether Magnus had a point.  He didn’t really understand why he felt so fucking  _ fine _ when he’d reached rock bottom just days earlier.  An uneasy thought passed through his head: he was going to be hit by the next wave of pain and loneliness any minute now, and he would try all of this again, and he had no control over it.  

He blinked, trying to stay calm, and looked at Magnus and Mahdi who were glancing at each other guiltily.  He said, “I’m sick, okay?  I’ve got a lot of things in my head I have to sort out.  But today I feel okay.  And I don’t think that will change for the time being if we talk about what happened to me, and what’s happening with you guys.”

Magnus and Mahdi still didn’t look convinced.  He sighed.

“Okay, so the deal is, I fell in love with Isak.”  He could tell from the expressions on their faces that this was possibly common knowledge at this point.  “But I didn’t just… I didn’t just accept it and move on.  I did some shitty things.  I tried to break him and Even up, and then they did.  And then.. I tried to make a move on him when he was vulnerable.  And on top of that, I was doing pills.  Lots of pills, and weed as well.”

He watched their expressions shift into uneasiness as they recounted; maybe there was some pity there but the main thing he saw was a sort of wary hardening, in Mahdi’s eyes in particular.

“After I did that to Isak… after he told me to stop, I realised I wasn’t happy.  No… I literally hated myself.  So I swallowed too many pills and I drank, like, over half a bottle of vodka.  And not long after, I ended up in here.”

He rubbed his hand over his face, through his greasy hair; he looked at them expectantly and eventually Mahdi nodded.

“It makes sense.”

“Yeah?  What does?”

“Why Even is so mad.”

“That’s what you were going to tell me?”

Magnus nodded, looking upset, and Jonas realised he’d never seen Magnus look anything other than happy before.  He looked down at his hands and realised he’d overestimated his ability to be able to deal with this situation.

“So… what kind of things are we talking, here?  That you did?” Mahdi asked.  “How did you… how did you split them up?”

“I didn’t… not specifically.  It’s hard to explain.”

“Well  _ try _ ,” Mahdi said, and Magnus looked at him with a warning expression.  Mahdi visibly tried to calm himself but Jonas could see he was angry.

“I just, I did some stuff.  I deleted a text from Isak’s phone.  I tried to kiss him.  I just generally…” He couldn’t tell them the stuff about Elias.  He swallowed sharply.  “I just generally wasn’t a nice person.”

“And then you tried to… to force yourself on Isak?”

“No!” Jonas looked up in alarm.  “That isn’t-”

“But you knew he’d been acting strange after whatever it was that happened to him that night you guys went out?  You did it after that, right?  When Even was staying away from him?”

Jonas looked at him, at his brittle expression, and nodded.

“Look, Mahdi,” Magnus said, his tone conciliatory.  “This isn’t… I mean, he knows he fucked up.  He felt bad about what he did.  That’s why he’s here.”

“Yeah, well, attempted suicide isn’t some bullshit religion that wipes all your bad stuff clean just because you say sorry.”  Mahdi sighed.  “I just… I don’t understand.  You and Isak were best friends.  It doesn’t seem right to me.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Jonas said.  “None of it was right.”

“I… I shouldn’t be here, man.  I’m sorry.  I don’t want to make you feel… depressed again.  I just don’t think I’m going to say the right thing at the moment,” Mahdi said.  He stood up, and looked at Magnus, who shook his head.  “Well, see you around.”

Jonas felt the sting of humiliation as he left the room; he knew it was nothing more than he deserved but he couldn’t stop the self-pity washing over him anyway, and  he hated himself for it.  He looked at Magnus from the corner of his eye and said, “You don’t need to stay, you know?”

Magnus shrugged.  “He’s just got a very simple of looking at things.  The wrong kind of simple, sometimes.  He’ll come round.”

“I don’t want him to come round.  That’s exactly how I  _ should  _ be treated.”

“Well, that’s not what I’m going to do.  Sorry.”  He picked up another bar of chocolates and looked at it.  “Can I eat you too?  Yeah, let’s do it, sexy.”  He unwrapped it and sank his teeth into it.

They sat in silence for a while, as Magnus worked his way through half the bar.  Then he put it down, his expression turning serious.  “Even really wasn’t happy about Isak coming to see you.  That’s why things were so tense today at school.”

“Oh?”

“Isak wanted to come with us, and Even told him he wasn’t going to let him.  I’m sure you can imagine how  _ that _ went down.”

Jonas could imagine.  He nodded briefly.

“Anyway, Isak said he’d already come last Friday, so Even got angry, and then Isak started crying and Even ended up walking out.  Isak went after him.  I mean...” He sighed.  “It feels as though nobody is really talking to each other anymore.  We’re just… we avoid everything, because the truth is apparently too painful.  And when it comes out, it’s ugly and it makes us feel worse.”

Jonas reflected on that.  How different would things have been if he’d just been open with Isak from the start?  Not kept his feelings inside him where they twisted into something ugly and unwieldy?

“Talk to me about how you’re feeling,” Jonas suggested.  Magnus looked at him, confused.

“ _ I’m _ okay.”

“Yeah, but if you’d asked me that a few weeks ago I’d have said the same thing.  So, talk to me honestly.  How do you feel right now?”

Magnus seemed to consider this, then said, “A bit shit.”

“Why?”

“Because Isak was hurt, and it was kind of my fault for putting that photo on Facebook where Elias could see it.”  Jonas responded to that with dumb silence: he had never even considered Magnus would feel guilty.  “I didn’t realise who Elias was, I just figured as he was friends on there with a bunch of Nissen students that he was someone I’d seen around at parties.  Eskild apparently told Noora who told Eva who told Vilde who told me.  And I know that they’re telling me it wasn’t my fault, but if I hadn’t put that on there, he wouldn’t have known where we were, and Isak wouldn’t have been hurt and you wouldn’t have tried to kill yourself and this whole mess wouldn’t have happened.”

He looked down guiltily at the bed sheets and absently wiped chocolate off on his jeans.

“Have you told anyone about this?  About how you’ve been feeling?”

Magnus shook his head, then wiped his arm over his eyes and nose, chasing tears away.  “Well, I told my mum.  She told me it wasn’t my fault, but then she’s supposed to say that.”

“Magnus, it  _ wasn’t _ your fault.”

Magnus shook his head.  “That doesn’t help when I… you know, grab Isak’s arm to tell him something, and he flinches away from me.  Or when he clings to Even like he’s terrified of something.  I know logically it was an innocent action and I couldn’t have ever realised what it was going to lead to, but I feel so weird and so unhappy about it and now you’re in here, it feels even worse.”

Jonas looked at him, then said, “Can I show you something?”

Magnus shrugged and nodded.  Jonas reached over and found the book he’d buried under a pile of other books: the one with his resolutions in.  He flipped it to the right page and gave it to Magnus.

Magnus looked through it, frowning.  “Okay?  I mean, this is great.  But what does it have to do with what I’m saying?”

“I just want you to know I’m trying to work on things.  And if I’m going to be a better person, and a better friend, we’re going to start talking more.  We’re going to tell each other when we’re feeling shit, okay?  Even if we can’t fix it, which… I mean, I can’t tell you anything other than this  _ isn’t  _ your fault, and I know that’s not going to help you yet.  But maybe it will eventually.  And at least we’re doing something, right?”

Magnus looked at him and then smiled.  “Right.  We’ll be the strong and sensitive types that share our feelings?”

Jonas nodded.  “We’re going  _ Generation Snowflake _ on this shit.”

Magnus broke off some chocolate, handed it to Jonas, and they worked their way through the rest of the pile in content silence.

 

***

 

Jonas was released from the hospital a few days later.  He returned home, to a house that felt smaller, and a family who clung to him like ivy growing around a tree, and he let them squeeze a semblance of normality back into him.  

His mum had devised a programme of recovery for him and he listened to her plans and agreed with everything.  The first step, the ‘professional’ aspect of it was group therapy, regular health check ups, and an expensive therapist that would be paid for by the money previously being transferred into his account; the money she now knew had made his addiction so easy to fund.

She then asked him if he still wanted to transfer schools (she had ignored the possibility that he’d meant he simply didn’t want to return to any school); he thought about this - it would be a kind of poetic justice if he ended up at the school Even had transferred from - but in the end he shook his head and said he would stay at Nissen.

He agreed to curfews once he started attended school again next week, he agreed checkpoints throughout the day with his form tutor who would be closely monitoring his attendance in lessons. He agreed to it all.

His bedroom was spotless when he entered it; his mum had gone through and tidied up every aspect of it, and now he barely recognised it.  She’d put new sheets on the bed, piled up new clothes that she’d bought for him.  He took a shower and noticed that there were no razors lying about; he came down for dinner and noticed there were no alcohol bottles in the usual places.

He accepted it all silently and graciously.

She’d also taken his phone from him.  Well, technically it had been taken off him at the hospital and handed to her, and she hadn’t yet given it back.  She said that she would check to see if anything important came through, but she’d decided he didn’t need the pressure right now.

He accepted that as well.

She hadn’t taken his laptop, so he could still check some of his messages - mainly those coming through on Facebook.  A lot of people he hadn’t spoken to in months were asking if he was okay.  He ignored them all.

Eva came over on Thursday evening and they walked to his group therapy together.  She told him she’d wait outside.  He went in, one of the last to arrive, and sat down.  Everyone was around his age, the oldest looked to be about 19 or 20.

He sat in silence, apart from introducing himself.  That was normal, apparently, the facilitator told him afterwards.  Sometimes it took several sessions before new members became comfortable with speaking.  He presumed that none of the other members were remotely new, then, because they all seemed to clamour to want to talk about their problems, about themselves and their boring lives.

It all felt like a sort of passive, hazy state of being.  The snow that had begun to fall when he was in hospital continued to pile up; everywhere felt brand new and yet too small at once, and he wondered if this was his life now: a distant state of observation that would keep him impassive and numb and alive simply through  _ being _ .

On Friday afternoon, his mum drove him to his therapist for the first time.  From next week she would come to the school to do this; she had negotiated the time off at work simply because she believed he wouldn’t go otherwise.

They pulled up outside a professional, well-maintained looking building and both looked up at it together.  “They said it would finish by 4 o’clock, so I’ll be back then,” his mum said.  

He nodded, looked at her and said, “Thank you for everything you’re doing, mum”  She flushed happily and kissed his cheek, and he went in, glancing over his shoulder to see her peering at him through the windscreen, eager to ensure he wasn’t going to try and sneak back out as soon as she pulled away.

He gave his name at the desk and the receptionist smiled warmly, told him to take a seat.  She rang a number and he looked round the empty waiting room, trying to get an impression of what sort of people came here.

He didn’t wait long to be seen: a man in his fifties, or there about, came through after a couple of minutes. He peered over his small round spectacles.  “Jonas?”

Jonas nodded and stood up.  “Come through,” the man said.  Jonas followed him down the hall, noticing that the man had a hobble when he walked: he’d once read that therapists often employed some sort of physical affliction to make them appear more approachable, and he wondered if it was real.  It was such a random thought that he found himself getting annoyed at even being here.

The room he ended up in wasn’t like the therapist offices he’d seen in TV shows and movies; there weren’t books stacked up on shelves, or a couch for him to recline on, or muted autumnal colours to make him feel he was in a tranquil forest somewhere.  The light was pitchy, the room pretty minimalist - there were three arm chairs, and the man told him he could choose which one (this felt like a test so he picked the one facing the other two, just to fuck with his expectations slightly.) The walls were pretty much empty apart from a couple of certificates to prove credentials.

“My name is Daniel,” the man said, easing himself into the chair with a huge physical presence that seemed almost rehearsed.  “It’s good to meet you, Jonas.”  He leant forward with a hand extended and Jonas looked at it before nodding slightly, leaning forward and shaking it.

“Now,” Daniel said, “I know you probably have expectations of how this is going to go, but the first session is really about assessing your current frame of mind and working from there.  We like to know what the main areas you’d like to work on are, and that will dictate the first few sessions.”

Jonas nodded.  “Sounds fine.”

“Okay.”  Daniel smiled, stood up, hobbled over to the desk and came back with a clipboard that he peered down at over his spectacles.  “Now this… well, I hate paperwork, but this is quite useful.  It’s a chance for you to map out some of your feelings at this point in time.”

He handed it to Jonas, patted his pocket for a pen, and then smiled as he found one.  “Ah-ha.”

Jonas prickled with irritation: he felt like the guy was deliberately playing the bumbling therapist role and it irrationally annoyed him.  He took the pen with a forced smile of acknowledgment and stared down at the page as Daniel settled back into his seat.

There were tons of questions in front of him. Way too many, in Jonas’s opinion.  He had to rate out of five how strongly he agreed or disagreed with a statement; the statements were about various aspects of his life and he scanned through them, his frown increasing.  Some were bizarrely mundane, others shockingly direct.

  * _I eat healthily_
  * _I eat when I’m supposed to_
  * _I wash regularly_
  * _I have no trouble making friends_
  * _I have people who I can lean on for emotional support_
  * _I often wake up sad_
  * _I often cry myself to sleep_
  * _I regularly drugs for nonmedicinal purposes_
  * _I often have suicidal thoughts_
  * _I regularly drink more than the recommended daily intake_
  * _I find it difficult to be sexually intimate with others_



He went through and circled each of them without thinking too much about the connotations.  He found his mind drifting to Isak, wondering if he’d had to complete something similar at his counselling session: a couple of times he found himself marking an answer as he imagined Isak would have done, then crossing it out and putting something else.  He began to feel his body tensing up as the questions went on: at one point he rested the board on his legs, looked over to the window on the far side of the room, looked up at the clock (he’d only been in here ten minutes), looked back to Daniel staring into the middle distance as though there was something fascinating happening just past Jonas’s shoulder, looked back down and finished going through it.

As soon as he put the pen down, Daniel stood up, smiling, and took the clipboard from him.  He took it back over to the desk, not looking at anything on it, and then came back over to sit down again.  Everything seemed to be a tremendous effort, and Jonas wondered why he hadn’t just put the clipboard on the chair next to him.

“How did you find that?”

Jonas shrugged.  “A bit pointless.”

“Really?”

“Well, some of the questions were a bit problematic.”

“Such as?”

“I mean, the stuff around sex and intimacy… what if I was a rape victim?  And you’d just handed that to me?”

Daniel seemed to consider that.  “Can rape victims not have sexual partners?  Romantic relationships?”

“Well, of course they can.  But they’re not going to have the same attitudes towards it as others, are they?”

“No?  Their views are going to be altered?”

“Of course.”  He squeezed his eyes shut.  He was doing it again: he was thinking about Isak, when he should have been trying to solve his own problems.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Jonas…  _ have  _ you been a victim of sexual assault?  You don’t have to answer, of course.”

_ I’ve been guilty of it, basically _ .

“No.”

“But those questions stood out, for you?”

“Well, they were the most problematic.”

“And yet… you’re here due to a drug addiction and suicide attempt, yes?”  Jonas nodded reluctantly.  “Did you not find the questions there to be more problematic?  To be… what’s the buzzword that you youngsters use?   _ Triggering _ ?  Is that it?”

“Yes, that’s the word.”  Jonas pursed his lips.  “No, I didn’t find the questions on drugs to be triggering.”  He frowned.  “Also, it’s a little bit of an arsehole thing to say that only young people use that word.  Like, do you not believe in triggering as a concept?”

_ Stop being a brat,  _ he told himself.

Daniel smiled placidly.  “My beliefs aren’t important.”

“But mine are, to you, right?  And if I think you’re not going to take it seriously - my questions about your methods, about the potential to upset vulnerable people coming to you, that’s important to me.”

“Okay,” Daniel said.  “I understand.  But perhaps we can return to the question I asked you.  You said you didn’t find the questions on drugs to be triggering.  I’d just like to discuss that a bit.”

“They were just… they were questions.  That’s it.  Statements, even.  I found them easy enough to answer.”

“And yet you feel a rape victim would struggle on the questions around intimacy?”

“Well, yes.  It’s two completely different subjects.  Drugs aren’t as… as awful as rape.”

“They’re not?”

“No.”  Jonas looked at him and laughed.  “Are you serious?”

“It’s a question asked with serious intent, yes.  I’d just like to clarify: you don’t see yourself, as a victim of drug abuse, as equatable to a victim of rape.”

“Of course I don’t!” Jonas snapped.  “What the actual…” He took a breath, trying not to get angry.  “Somebody who is raped doesn’t have a  _ choice _ .  They… they’re forced through the most awful thing someone can go through, and they’re blameless.  Drug addiction is a choice.”

Daniel thought about this for a moment.  He had leaned back into his chair, his hands resting on a portly stomach, his mouth thin and reflective.  “I’m not sure I agree.  To take drugs, certainly: that is a choice.  To be  _ addicted _ to drugs… perhaps not?  Because if you could choose, surely you would choose not to be?”

“But it was my own fault I got addicted.   _ I _ decided to take more and more pills over time.  That was nobody’s decision but mine.”

“And you did that, why?”

“Because I… I was bored.  I was unhappy.  Or I wanted to feel something, or not feel anything.  I don’t know, it depended on my mood.”

“It was a time in your life when you were unhappy?”

“No.  No, I started taking drugs ages ago.  When I was fifteen.”

“But you weren’t an addict at that point?”

“It built up over time.”

“And you were still happy when you crossed over that line, from recreational drug user to someone dependent on them?”

Jonas thought about this.  “Well, no.  I became unhappy about… about something.  And that’s when I  _ chose _ to start taking more.”  He emphasised the chose, because it was important Daniel saw: he wasn’t going to accept some sort of absolvement from a man he’d only just met.

“Okay.  So let’s think about the drug slash rape analogy.  Just humour me for a little while longer.  You said that you don’t think drugs are as awful as rape.  And of course you’re right: drugs are often taken with relatively few issues.  Sometimes no real issues at all, if they are prescriptions drugs designed to make things better.  However, your drug addiction spiralled, did it not?  You became dependent on drugs at around the time you became depressed.  At least that’s what it sounds like.  According to your notes, you took huge amounts of prescription drugs in the run up to your suicide attempt, and you took even more when you  _ did _ attempt it.”  He folded his arms and rearranged his legs so they were crossed.  “This, to me, sounds pretty horrific.  I have two sons not much older than you and if one of them had gone through something similar to what you’ve been through, I would be devastated for them.”

“Well, yeah, I tried to kill myself.  It was a pretty devastating thing for me to put my family through.”

“Yes.  But not just devastating for them.  Devastating for you.  For your own inner peace, your own sense of self.  It is something you will always remember: during your high points, of which there will be many, and your low points, of which there may be too many.”

“And yet,” Daniel continued, as Jonas wondered warily where he was going with this, “You’ve told me, essentially, that your experience… this awful,  _ awful _ thing you went through… isn’t equatable to something like rape.  You don’t find questions around it to be triggering.  You simply see them as… facts?  Yes?”

Jonas nodded.

“Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“You want me to see that my problems are serious.  That I should treat myself with the same care and respect I would treat a rape victim.”

Daniel spread his hands out in a  _ There you go _ gesture.  “Sounds fair to me.”

Jonas looked at the clock.  They’d been in here just under thirty minutes: there were still thirty minutes to go.

“Did you find any of the other questions difficult?” Daniel asked.  Jonas thought back to the sheet.

“The ones about friends.”

“Yes?  In what sense?”

“I used to think I was good at friendships but recently I’ve been… pretty terrible.  So I ended up having to give those ones threes, just in the middle, because I wasn’t sure.”

“Okay,” Daniel said.  “This is something you want to discuss in your sessions?  Your friendships, and your feelings on them?”

“I guess.”

“Anything else?  Your family?”

“There are no problems with my family.”

“Good.  That’s good to hear.”

There was a long silence.  Jonas wasn’t sure where he was supposed to take the conversation now.  He knew it was done to him to continue it.  He tried to think back to the sheet, about what was on it but also what wasn’t on it.  “There was nothing… nothing negative on there.  There was nothing about whether I saw myself as a bad person.”

“No, well,” Daniel said, smiling. “Surely you can see why?”

“But, I mean… not everyone in therapy sees themselves as a bad person, do they?”

“Most do,” Daniel said bluntly.  “Very few are happy with themselves when they come through the door.”

“No, but…” Jonas sighed, trying to explain it.  “I do  _ bad _ things.  Like, really bad.  Sometimes I think almost… psychopathically bad.”

“Oh?”

“So there should be something on there about that.  Something which takes into account whether you commit harmful acts, that sort of thing.”

“I see.”

Jonas looked at him expectantly.  “You  _ can _ ask me about it?”

“If you’d like to speak, I’m listening.”

Jonas sighed, looking at the clock.  “I don’t think we’ve got time.”

“Goodness!” Daniel said, with convincing alarm. “Is it a very long list?”

“No,” Jonas said quickly.  “No, it’s… it’s not long at all, it’s just… the stuff I have done is very serious.  But you need to hear it in context.  You need to understand where it started.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me the start of the story, then?  And we’ll continue it next session.”

Jonas thought about this.  It seemed reasonable.

“Okay.  So, it started at a party, when I was fifteen.”

Jonas watched Daniel settle back into his chair, his eyes narrow as though he could conceivably have been drifting off to sleep.  He let the quietness of the room and the stillness of Daniel’s presence, now that he’d settled properly for the session, lull him into a state of trust, and he told him all about Elias, and Isak, and the early stages of the nightmare that he’d drifted through unaware for the months that had followed.

 

***

 

That night he found himself dreaming of the cabin, and of Isak: he found himself in the room that Isak had shared with Elias that night.  He knew instinctively that something wasn’t right but his conscience seemed disembodied: he could only watch himself pin Isak down as his best friend cried silently beneath him.

_ Wake up _ , he told himself.  Instead he leant forward and kissed Isak’s open mouth: the parted lips were so tempting, as were Isak’s flashing eyes, terrified in the dim light.

He forced him to still; he hit him and pressed his hand to his pale neck and delighted in the way Isak’s body went rigid.  He put two fingers inside Isak and moaned at the pained gasp from Isak’s lips.  He kissed him again and stroked his hair and told him  _ You belong to me _ .

Jonas woke up gasping and sweat soaked and immediately threw up at the side of his bed.  He began to cry, disgusted with himself, and the door to his room opened: his mum came through, saw the mess he’d made and her face crumpled in dismay.

“Oh, Jonas, it’s fine.  You’re fine.  The doctor said your body might react strangely at first.”

_ Did the doctor say I’d have dreams about raping my best friend _ , he wondered.  He leaned into her chest numbly as she sat on the bed next to him and pulled him towards her.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, stroking his hair.  “You’re okay, my little boy.”

_ I’m a monster.  I’m always going to be a monster _ .  

“I… I need to see my therapist again.  Really soon,” he said.  She nodded.  “I mean it, mum.  I need to see him.  I can’t wait a week.”

“Okay,” she whispered.  She rocked him back and forth and he clung to her pyjama sleeves and tried not to sob.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoy this chapter, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it!
> 
> I've said for a while now this fic will be about 20 chapters. I'm now confident in saying it will be 20 plus the epilogue. Thanks for sticking around for the journey so far, but we've still got a little bit to go so strap in tight. :D
> 
> Drop any questions/thoughts you don't want to ask here into my CC: https://curiouscat.me/DiscoNight_01  
> And as always you can find me on Twitter: @DiscoNight_01
> 
> <3

Jonas didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.  He was terrified to even close his eyes.  He was terrified to be by himself, and terrified to think about anything other than the ticking clock in the kitchen as he stayed up and drank strong coffee into the early hours of the morning.

He wondered whether it was possible to commit a violent act without thinking about it.  Wasn’t that what psychopaths did?  They had no emotions to disconnect and therefore they were able to do awful things without any real thought.  But then, Jonas didn’t feel like he had no emotions.  If anything, he felt like he had too many, and that they would ultimately be the reason he’d hurt Isak in the way he had in his dream.

He drank more coffee and eventually his mum came down to join him.  She rang the out-of-hours number at the clinic as she was putting on a laundry load; he heard her on the phone, her voice neutral as he waited nervously for her to end the call.

“Thank you,” she eventually said, hanging up.  She turned to face him.  “He doesn’t normally work on a Saturday but they’ll do an emergency callout and see if he’s available.  They said they could get another therapist to see you, if you want?”

He shook his head.  He couldn’t go through the arduous process of explaining the situation to someone else.  He needed to see Daniel, and only Daniel.

They waited for over an hour and he was beginning to lose hope when eventually the home phone rang and his mum picked up quickly.  Her tone of voice became slightly more positive as she said thank you again, and he looked at her frantically as she hung up.

“He’ll see you this afternoon.  I’ll drive you over there at half past four.  Is that okay?”

“Yes,” he said, though nothing was okay, not really.  He now had to wait for hours and hours to talk about a part of himself he didn’t even want to acknowledge. His body felt as though it could betray him at any moment.  He didn’t want to think about Isak and yet he was the only thing his mind was interested in focusing on.  He felt sick with worry and he had no idea where to channel these emotions.

“Jonas, are you going to be able to cope until then?” his mum asked him.  He hadn’t realised she was still looking at him, concerned.  He nodded reluctantly and she said, “Well, why don’t we have a day in front of the TV?  You can pick something to watch?”

He knew she could see the fear in his eyes and he suddenly felt a rush of affection and gratitude towards her.  He smiled, nodding a bit more firmly, and she gave him a soft kiss on the top of his head before pulling some eggs out of the fridge in order to make a start on breakfast.

 

***

 

The day dragged by slowly.  He felt lost without his phone, without something to occupy his hands; his mum saw him biting his nails and shot him a disapproving look, and then disappeared for a while before coming back with some bubble wrap that she’d been using earlier to wrap up old crockery.  He looked at her and she said, “This will help.”

He took it and popped one of the bubbles, and then another, and then another.  He did it sporadically and thought about how he used to love doing this when he was younger.  He smiled, and popped pretty much every bubble in the roll as they watched _House Of Cards_ together in otherwise silence.

 

***

 

When he arrived at the clinic there were a couple of people in the waiting room but he was sent straight through to the room he’d been in last time.  Daniel was writing something at his desk when he entered through the open door; he managed a small, exhausted smile and then he closed the door and let out a series of ragged breaths.

“Sit down, Jonas,” Daniel told him firmly.  Jonas followed his order, feeling ridiculous, and stared at his hands for a while.  “I understand you’ve had a bit of scare?”

He nodded.  He’d wanted to see Daniel but now he was here he realised he had no idea how he was meant to articulate the depravity he’d dreamt up last night.  He had no idea how to even begin rationalising it out loud.  He opened his mouth a few times, trying to get the words out, but nothing took root.  He put his head in his hands and sucked his breath in.

“Okay,” Daniel said softly.  “Perhaps I can ask if this was related to what you told me yesterday?  About your friend Isak, and what happened to him?”

“I… It was to do with Isak, but -” he swallowed sharply.  “It was me, this time.”

He kept his head in his hands, not wanting to look at Daniel’s expression.  “I didn’t… I didn’t _do_ anything to him, not last night, but I… I _dreamt_ about it.  About hurting him.”

“Okay.  Can I ask you a question, Jonas?”  Jonas nodded into his hands.  “Did this dream take place in the cabin you described to me?  The place where Elias forced Isak?”

He nodded again, gradually lifting his head to face Daniel.

“I see.  Do you want to tell me about the dream?”

“It… it was… I don’t know. I was in the bedroom, Isak’s bedroom, the one he’d have been in with Elias.  But Elias wasn’t there and I was.”

Daniel didn’t say anything, but nodded to indicate he was listening.

“I… I _forced_ him.  I,” he paused to screw his face up, bringing his palms upwards to cover it and holding them there for a moment, “I put my fingers inside of him, I told him he was mine.  He was in pain and I was… it felt like I was getting off on it.  Like… I really wanted to _hurt_ him.”  He shuddered, the words making him feel sick even as he said it.  He tasted the bile in his mouth that he’d thrown up last night: he wondered briefly if he would do it again.  He swallowed, and looked at Daniel, trying to work out how he might respond.

Daniel simply nodded again.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” he asked quietly.

Daniel seemed to consider this question.  “I’d like to know more about your reaction once the dream had finished.”

“I…” _Fuck._ Was he really going to say how fucked up he’d been in the moments following? “I threw up.  I just woke up and it came out of me before I could stop it.”

“And after that?”

Jonas blinked at him.  “What do you think?  I couldn’t sleep.  I couldn’t do anything.”

“Did you talk to anyone?”

“My… my mum came in and hugged me.  But I didn’t tell her what happened.”

“The hug was reassuring?”

“Yeah.  It was.”

Daniel nodded a bit more decisively.  “You had no idea what was happening in the cabin that weekend, yes?  Did I remember that right?”

Jonas wondered if this was a trap.  He looked at Daniel with a heated expression.  “Are you trying to say I was lying?”

“No.  Not in the slightest.  Please, bear with me a moment.  I’ll try not to drag this out.  I’ve been accused of doing so in the past so I’ll do my best now.”  Daniel spread the palms of his hands on his legs and continued, “You said yesterday that Elias himself told you that he forced Isak into… oral sex, yes?”  Jonas nodded.  “And Isak backed this up?”  Jonas nodded again.  “This is the only thing you know Elias did to Isak?”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask you what your relationship with Elias was like?  You didn’t really give me any indication yesterday but presumably you wanted to spend time with him?  You were the one to invite him to the cabin?”

“I…” _You liked him.  You were friends with a rapist.  Maybe even a serial rapist.  A monster._ “I… I liked him.  I considered him a friend.”

“You got on well?”

“Yes.”

“What did you like about him?”

Jonas paused, thinking about this.  He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  He was just… he made me laugh.  He was cool.  He gave me weed.”

“Gave? Or sold?”

“Well he sold, most of the time.  Sometimes I’d go round and hang out with him and he’d give it to me for free then.”

“You said he made you laugh.  What kind of humour did he have?”

 _You laughed at the sexual stuff he said.  You found that funny._ “I… I can’t remember.  Just, you know, typical stoner humour.”

“Dirty jokes?”

Jonas peered at him suspiciously, and Daniel peered back from over his spectacles.

“Yes, sometimes.”

“And were those jokes about people you knew sometimes?”

 _All the time_.  “Yes.  Sometimes.”

“Were they ever about Isak?”

He listened to the clock ticking and for a moment wondered if he was back in the kitchen again.  Maybe he was still awaiting a moment that would never really come.

He nodded.

"And how did those make you feel?”

 

_He’s just joking, Isak.  Have a little humour._

_Come on, Elias, that’s fucked up.  Don’t talk about him like that._

_You’re such a fucking douchebag.  No wonder he hates you._

 

“I laughed along.  I’d ‘tell him off’ but really I’d be laughing and encouraging it.”

“Did you ever challenge him?”

“Not strongly enough.”

“Did he joke about others you both knew?  You said you were at the cabin with your girlfriend at the time.  What was her name again?”

 “Eva.”

“Eva.  Right.  Did he make jokes about her.”

“Sometimes.”

“What kind of jokes, Jonas?”

“Just… you know… smutty humour.  Like, when she was in the bedroom and I said I was going to check she wasn’t mad at me, he asked if he could come watch.  Just stupid stuff.  Asking me if she sent me nudes, that sort of thing.”

“And you never told him to stop?  That it was wrong?”

“No.”  He looked at Daniel challengingly.  “I told you, didn’t I?  I’m fucked up in the head.  Not just… not just since I started taking those pills.  I’ve been this way for a long time now.  And I understand that dream.  My mind is trying to tell me what I already know deep down.  That I’m like Elias.  That I’m capable of hurting Isak… maybe anyone, if I was in the right state of mind.”

He took a deep breath.  “I should have done a better job of dying that night.  I know it would have hurt my family but it’s going to hurt them more when they realise what I am.”

Daniel sighed gently.  “Jonas, I want you to listen to me very carefully.  There are two things I want to say to you at this moment: just two.  The first is that you are not Elias.  In fact I don’t believe you are anything like him. The second is that you are, in my professional opinion, displaying some symptoms of psychological repression which is very much influencing the Jonas I am talking to in the present moment.”

He stared at Jonas placidly.  “You understand what I mean, yes?  You have told me very little about Elias but it seems to me from what you _have_ told me, he has had a profound influence on this particular stage of your life.  There may have been other contributing factors but Elias was the… the strike of the match, if you like.”

Jonas thought back to what Isak had told him that day at the hospital.  How his own therapist had told him that when a predator chose their victim, they didn’t just groom them but the people around them.

“He… I didn’t tell you this yet but he… he made Isak believe he wanted it.  The things he did to him.”

Daniel didn’t look surprised by this.

“When I first found out, I confronted Isak… and Isak just refused to see sense.”  Jonas said.  “I could see that Elias had… _implanted_ ideas in his head.”  He frowned.  “But that… that must have been easy for Elias to do, right?  He did something so awful to Isak that it must have, I don’t know, _broken_ something in Isak’s head, which made him easier to control.”  He paused.  “With me, he didn’t _do_ anything.  He… he was just my friend.  He gave me weed.  That’s it.”  

“Does Isak have any other history of repressing emotions, Jonas?  That you can remember?”  Jonas paused, not understanding what he meant.  “Anything from when he was younger, perhaps?”

 _His mum._ “He… he didn’t have a very good home life.  His mum has some mental health issues and since I’ve known him he’s... pushed those things aside.  Pretended they weren’t happening.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Since we were eleven.”  Jonas shook his head.  “I’m sorry, though, this is irrelevant.  You need to help _me_ understand.  I need to tell you about what I’ve done.  I know right from wrong, and I still… I’ve still done things, to Isak, that make me think I’m turning into Elias.”

“Have you ever forced Isak into sex, or any sort of sexual act he didn’t want, Jonas?” Daniel asked him gravely.

Jonas thought about this.  The question didn’t even begin to cover the complexity of what he’d done to Isak.

“I kissed him when he didn’t want it.  He had a panic attack… that’s how much he didn’t want it.  And I…”   _Tell him._ “We got high and I kissed him again, and we were going to… we were going to have sex… he told me he wanted to but still, I knew at this point about Elias.  Elias had attacked him for a second time, just days before.  I knew he was fragile and had a fucked up attitude towards sex.  And I still…”  He blinked.  “I did stop.  When he started crying.  But it should _never_ have got that far.”

He wrapped his arms under his legs and leant forward.  “I bet you don’t think I’m so innocent now.”

Daniel smiled without humour: in fact it was an indescribably sad expression.  “Jonas, I’m very sorry for what you’re going through at the moment.  I can only imagine the turmoil your brain has been signalling to you.”

“It’s all of my own doing, so.  Nothing that I don’t deserve.”  He exhaled slowly.  “How do I stop it?  I really need to know.”

“Stop what?”

“Myself… from hurting Isak?  Maybe even hurting others?”

“Do you genuinely believe you could force Isak into sex?  Despite the fact that you couldn’t… when was it?”

“Like, a couple of weeks ago.”

“Just before you attempted to commit suicide?”

Jonas nodded slowly.

“Well,” Daniel said, “do you think you’re capable now?”

“That’s what I’m asking _you_.  I dreamt it.  That must mean that psychologically, I want it?”

“No.  Your dreams are complex places, Jonas.  Your psyche… the way you feel about yourself, the fears you have, the hopes you have… they all play a part in what we dream.  Dreaming something does not make it so.”  He asked again, “So, do _you_ feel capable?  If you had Isak alone, if you were in a position to do it?  Would you force him into something he didn’t want?”

He closed his eyes and tried to push the dream to one side.  He tried to imagine Isak as he’d seen him last: his wounded eyes and his screams of frustration as he’d tried to scratch at Jonas’s face.  He thought about how he’d felt when he’d seen him; the spark he’d felt despite everything.  He thought about how Isak had gripped onto Jonas’s legs as he’d fallen, defeated by his own anger, against him.

Isak was real; he was pale skin and and tense muscles and wide eyes and sweet smiles and hair that smelled of mint.  He had a soul that Jonas was drawn to; unchecked, unpredictable, kind and self-deprecating and far better than anyone who had hurt him deserved to be close to.

“I couldn’t _force_ him,” he finally answered.  “I don’t think I could.  But I could… I could use things against him.  His insecurities.  The things he’s been through.  I can and I have used those things because I wanted him.”

“Well.”  Daniel looked at his watch and Jonas realised they’d almost been there an hour.  He began to feel anxious:  he needed more time.  He wasn’t safe to be around others.  He had school on Monday and - “I don’t believe there is any immediate concern for your safety or anyone else’s, Jonas,” Daniel interrupted his thoughts.  “As for the rest, I understand your concern.  I understand that you are very worried about the influence you have on Isak, and this is something we can work on.”

“But… you can’t just _trust_ me?  I mean, just because I’ve told you I couldn’t force him, you don’t know for sure that it’s true?  And even if it is true, I’m going to see him at school and I’m going to disrupt the way he’s trying to get better!  Please, you _need_ to tell me what I can do to stop this.”

“You want me to tell you how to stop yourself from hurting someone?”

Jonas nodded emphatically.

“Jonas, I can’t do that.  Then again, I don’t believe I need to.  I understand your concerns but when you let this type of fear dictate your actions, you prolong the turmoil your brain is already withstanding.  You _need_ to accept that you are in control of your actions.  And if your brain is already signalling to you that you wouldn’t hurt someone in the way Elias was able to, that’s a good starting point, isn’t it?  You’ve got your brain on your side: the rest will follow.”

“I don’t agree,” Jonas said desperately.  “I don’t _trust_ my brain.  I don’t trust it to be around Isak at the moment.  Like… when I’m angry, if something makes me angry, what if I snap?  What if I just -” he felt tears at his eyes and groaned in frustration.  “I need to stop being near him, I know that.  But I can’t, because I’m obsessed with him.”

“Obsessed?”

“I think about him all the time.  I tried to split him up from his boyfriend so I could have him.  I did other things, bad things, to stop them being together.  I just _want_ him so much and -”

“How long you have felt this way?  This obsession?”

“A few months.  I don’t know.  Since he got together with his boyfriend, really.”  He shook his head.  No, that wasn’t right.  A crush wasn’t the same as obsession.  “More recently.  Since Elias told me what he did to him.”

“Okay.  But the word _obsessed_?  You’ve known him for a lot longer than this obsession.  You’d been friends with him since you were both eleven, yes?  Would you say this was an obsession that built up over time, or one that took hold very quickly?”

“It took hold quickly.  I-” He sighed. “He used to have feelings for me.  Romantic feelings.  I knew about it and I… I guess I liked it but I didn’t feel the same way for him.  Or if I did, I buried it deep.  I had a girlfriend… two long term girlfriends, really.  It was only when he got together with Even that I really understood I had feelings for him in return.”

“Before Isak found a boyfriend, how would you have described your friendship with him?”

“I loved him,” Jonas said simply.  “I still do, I mean, even just as a friend.  We went through so much together.  To be honest, I feel like he’s the only one who has ever really understood me.  And I thought he believed the same thing about me.”  He paused, frowning.  “But it was a lie, wasn’t it?  Because he couldn’t tell me about Elias.  So we couldn’t have understood each other very much at all.”

“Let’s… let’s leave Elias out of the equation for the moment. For now, let’s just focus on this term you used, this _obsession_ you have for him.”

“Okay,” Jonas said shakily.

“Picture yourself with Isak for a moment.  Imagine you had him: this object of your _obsession_.  In what sense do you picture yourselves?”

Jonas tried to do this.  He closed his eyes and thought about what he wanted from Isak.  “I just want… I want to be the one he depends on.  I want to be able to depend on him.  I want to hold him when he sleeps, and when he cries, and stay up late watching films with him.  I want it to be the way it used to, before all this mess happened.  Sometimes I think of… of kissing him and having sex with him and how good that would feel, but mostly I just want to go back to how it used to be.”

“Before Isak found a boyfriend, and the rules of your friendship changed?”

He nodded.

“Before Elias?”

He nodded again.

“Before Isak started pushing you away, after what happened to him at the cabin?”

He nodded again, and began to cry.

“Jonas, you are grieving for a time in your life that no longer exists.  You are grieving for your best friend’s loss of innocence because you feel guilty.  You had an idea of what happened to him in the cabin that night but you pushed it down into a place where you didn’t have to think about it.  Both of you did this.  And now you are suffering the consequences of that repression.”

“ _No_ .  I had _no_ idea.”

“You talked about Isak’s mum.  About the way he would pretend everything was okay as a child.  Did you ever encourage him to do this?”

A memory formed itself in his mind: the second time he’d gone round to Isak’s house.  Isak’s mum… _crying_ .  Screaming at them.  They’d crawled under Isak’s bed and held hands and sang _I’m Yours_ to each other.  Isak had pressed his face to Jonas’s chest and laughed into it because they couldn’t remember the words.  Outside of the bedroom, Isak’s mum had pounded on the door that Isak had locked from the inside with the key his dad had given to him.

“Sometimes.

“You set a pattern of behaviour.  A pattern of repression that you never actively verbalised to each other.”

And Jonas knew he was right.  Deep within him it was there, hidden like cursed buried treasure: he had always known that after the cabin, something changed intrinsically in Isak.  He’d put it down to Isak’s parents, he’d put it down to Isak’s feelings for Jonas.  He’d put it down to Isak’s sexuality.  He’d put it down to everything except the truth.  The truth that he’d seen in the way that Elias had looked at Isak and talked about him.  He hadn’t needed to be in the room that night to know the truth, and to ignore the truth.

“I believe your feelings for Isak are real.  I believe you are in love with him, that you are sexually attracted to him.  But I believe the guilt you felt, and still feel, over this terrible thing that happened to him has made you reject the more logical ways in which the brain copes with a situation like this.”

He was barely listening to what Daniel was saying; it was vibrating within his ears somehow but mostly he continued to cry as he pieced together the months that had followed, the light that had now been cast over Isak and Jonas’s actions as they’d travelled home the following day like nothing had ever happened, even though he’d seen the light leave Isak’s eyes and never really return.

“Jonas, you are a very fortunate young man.  You have a family who loves you and you have the capacity to want to get better.  And you _will_ get better.  But you will never stop hurting yourself and others if you do not address the basic truth of what Elias did to both you and Isak, and learn how to move on from that.”

He continued to sob.  He felt Daniel standing over him now, his hand on his shoulder.  “Is it okay if hug you, Jonas?  Please feel free to say no if you aren’t comfortable.”

Jonas nodded, and stood up, and he cried into the larger man’s chest; he felt it tear through him like an avalanche.  He had _known_.  He had known it all along.  And he had done what Isak had done: he had ignored it, he had pretended that nothing had changed.  They’d been nothing nothing more than those two children singing lame pop songs under the bed as Isak’s mum stood outside, banging on the door and telling them they’d die for their sins.  

They’d let the truth fester and rot away until it became part of the ground they stood on, part of the air they breathed.

“It was my fault.  I should have said something.  I should have said something to him,” he howled into Daniels’ chest.  Daniel hushed him.

“You had no capacity to deal with it at the time.  That is nothing to be ashamed of.  The brain protects us by shielding us sometimes.  You are not to blame for this.  The only person to blame is Elias.”

Jonas let the words sink in and he said thank you even as he continued to cry wordlessly and mournfully for the life that had been stolen from him and Isak.

 

***

 

He didn’t leave Daniel for another forty minutes or so.  Once he’d stopped crying, the older man had talked him through some coping strategies for returning to school.  He advised him on what to do if he saw Isak, how to talk to him without hurting him.  He gave him a helpline for the clinic; even if Daniel wasn’t available to talk, someone who knew his situation would be able to coach him through the next part of the day.

He increased their meeting time to two days a week; when Jonas squirmed in his seat, unsure if his parents could afford this, Daniel waved a hand and said they’d come to an agreement.

Meanwhile, it dawned on Jonas that he still hadn’t told Daniel the rest; about the way he’d gone back to Elias, encouraged him to fantasise about Isak, agreed to Elias’s plan to hurt Even.  In some ways, he now knew this was the worst part of all.  There was no explanation for this other than Jonas’s own selfishness.  He didn’t want Daniel to handwave it, so he resolved to tell him another time, when his mind felt clearer.

“Jonas,” Daniel told him as he was leaving.  “I’m not going to pretend the next few days are going to be easy for you.  Please, focus on the positives.  Focus on moving forward, not backwards.  I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

He nodded.

“And if you have any more disturbing dreams; remember, they are just dreams.  You are responsible for your own actions.  Good or bad.  Those actions belong to you.”

Jonas set his mouth in a thin line and nodded again.  Maybe in some ways Daniel already knew of his other _sins_.

Still.   _Forward, not backwards._

It wasn’t a bad mantra to live by.

 

***

 

His mum tried to persuade him to have the Monday off school and, too exhausted to argue, he agreed.  When she started talking to him on Monday evening about whether he was ready, he nodded.

“I can’t keep putting this off.  I’m so behind on my studies already.  I’ve basically fucked up two month’s worth of education.”

His dad, who was also in the room, tutted and said “ _Language_ , Jonas,” before his face softened.  “It’s okay, you know?  You’ll catch up.  You’re a smart boy.”

“Is it really the right thing, though, going back to the school where these problems started?” his mum asked.  “I know you changed your mind about transferring but it’s still an option, Jonas.  Elvebakken is a very good school, and -”

“Let me just… _try_ , mum.  If it doesn’t work, if I’m not happy, we’ll discuss it later, okay?  I promise I’ll tell you if things aren’t working out.”

She nodded reluctantly.  “Your dad will drive you in tomorrow.  Neither of us can pick you up but I expect you home before five.  Astrid will text us if you don’t return home by then.”

He hummed placidly in agreement, accepting this was his life now, at least until he could prove he was no longer a danger to himself.  

The problem was that he barely knew himself if that was still the case.

 

***

 

His dad drove him to Nissen just before the first lesson was due to begin.  He’d been told by his parents that he needed to register with reception when he entered, and this would also be his checkpoint at break and lunchtime as well.

“Hi,” he said when he got there.  “Jonas Vasquez.  I’ve… I’ve been off these last couple of weeks.”

“Ah, yes,” the receptionist said, smiling sympathetically at him.  He lowered his gaze, not wanting to meet her concerned eyes.  “Great to see you here, Jonas.  Your teachers have been informed of the… situation,” (she said situation as though it was some sort of classified military codename), “and are looking forward to getting you caught up.”

“Awesome,” he said, trying not to sound _too_ sarcastic.

He didn’t know what he expected from lessons.  The first was the worst.  The lesson had already arrived by the time he got there, and it happened to be one of the few he shared with a friend - Mahdi, in this case - who looked at him in barely concealed shock when he entered.  They always sat together, and nobody had taken his seat, but Mahdi had placed his bag on the chair.

He didn’t stop.  He didn’t think he could bear Mahdi shaking his head and refusing to move the bag.  He just walked straight to the back of the class as the teacher continued to talk, and sat there, focusing on being present and in the moment, as Daniel had told him to.  He took out his book, a pen, wrote down the date and topic at the start of a new page, and tried to make some sort of sense of what the teacher was saying.

When the class had finished, and the students were beginning to filter out, he saw Mahdi stop and sigh and turn back to him.

“You could have sat there,” he said haltingly.  “I was about to move my bag.”

“It’s fine.”  Jonas tried to smile reassuringly.  “Honestly, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s… it’s good to see you back.  I mean, I’m happy that you’re here and facing up to things.”

Jonas nodded.

“I’m sorry if, well, things can’t return to how they were.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Jonas said, though he felt a painful twist in his chest as Mahdi said it: the realisation that he was no longer a welcome presence within their friendship group.  He shrugged, trying to mask this hurt that he had no business feeling.  “I’m just going to try and catch up with my studies, so.  I won’t be around that much during… you know.  Break times and things.”

Mahdi shouldered his bag.  “Well, Magnus and Eva will be glad to see you back.”

“Cold, man,” Jonas said, forcing his mouth into a grin.  Mahdi didn’t respond, though; he just gave a brief tilt of his head and then left the classroom.

Jonas headed to his next class and it passed by in a flash, and then it was break time.  He stayed in the classroom and went through some of the things he’d missed with his teacher.  As the next lesson approached, he swore loudly when he realised he’d missed his check-in time; he gathered up his belongings and headed out quickly, rushing down the corridors to the reception area.

He passed by the lockers on the way and he stopped in his tracks when he saw Isak and Even talking to some of Even’s friends, Even’s arm slung around the smaller boy’s shoulders.  

Even was the first to see him; his face dropped in realisation and then Isak turned to look at him.  

Jonas kept walking.  He wasn’t going to do this, not now.  

“Jonas!”  He heard Isak call his name and he glanced round to see the tailend of Even telling Isak something before pressing a kiss to his cheek and pulling him closer.

 _Forwards, not backwards_.

He looked ahead and kept walking.

 

***

 

At lunch, he stayed in the classroom initially, writing up notes for an assignment he’d missed, but about halfway through his stomach was rumbling insistently and he realised he needed to eat if he wasn’t going to feel like shit this afternoon.  His teacher smiled at him, picking up on the noise.

“Jonas, go.  You have your notes. You just need to take this one step at a time.  Go and get something to eat.”

He checked in at reception first and then braced himself before heading to the canteen.  The food counter was near the entrance to the hall and he could feasibly get in and out without looking at anyone.  But things were never that easy.  Within seconds of arriving, Magnus had headed over to pull him into a hug, and then Eva and Vilde came to join them as well; suddenly he felt surrounded and closed-in and he swallowed sharply, trying to push these feelings away.  

“You should have told me you were in,” Eva said.  He shrugged.

“I thought it was easier if I just… you know… slipped in quietly.”

“Can we go somewhere to talk?” Eva asked.  He looked at her properly for the first time and saw the anxious expression on her face.

“Outside?”

“Fine.”

He bought a sandwich and some mineral water and Magnus mumbled something before heading back to sit with Mahdi, who was on his own; Jonas found this odd and when he scanned the canteen, he saw that Isak and Even were sitting with Even’s third year friends, Even’s arm still wrapped protectively around Isak’s shoulders.

“Hm,” he said, and Eva nodded.

“That’s what I wanted to tell you about.”

They headed outside. The snow had finally begun to melt but rain was drizzling slightly and it generally felt cold and unpleasant.  They huddled under the terraces - him, Eva and Vilde - and Jonas picked at his sandwich unenthusiastically.

“Everything’s a bit of a mess,” Eva told him.  Vilde nodded in agreement.  “Like, Even won’t let Isak out of his sight.  I think he’s been manic these last few days.  And Mahdi is pissed off with me and Vilde for defending you, and Magnus is kind of stuck in the middle of it.  Not to mention Noora is pissed off with me, too, because Eskild told her everything.”  She sighed wearily.  “I wish people would just mind their own business.”

“So everything's fucked because of me?” he surmised.  Eva’s face dropped.

“No, I mean -”

“Eva, it’s fine.  I’m not going to put myself in the middle of some sort of turf war.  Vilde, you should be able to hang out with Magnus without feeling bad.  Eva, you should make it up with Noora.  I should be studying and catching up.”

“And Isak?”

 _Don’t_ .   _Don’t bring up Isak._

“Even is only doing what’s best for him.”

“Isak should be allowed to choose his own friends!  It’s not just you that he’s cutting him off from.  Tell him what Even did the other day, Vilde,” Eva urged.

“I tried to invite them both to a Kosegruppe meeting as I wanted everything to go back to normal.  Back to how things used to be.  But Even cut Isak off before he could even say anything.  He just said they weren’t interested and that was it.  He didn’t give an explanation of any sort.”

“Well,” Jonas had no idea what to say to that.  “If, like you said, he’s manic then he’s probably just overdoing the protectiveness at the moment.  I’m sure Isak knows how to cope with it.”

“Jonas, listen to yourself.  Do you really believe that?  I know you want to cut yourself off from Isak but you’re still his friend and -”

“No, Eva, I’m _not_ ,” he snapped.  “I stopped being his friend the day I took advantage of the fact that he’d been _raped_ .”  He pressed his hands to his cheeks and shook his head.  He couldn’t do this.  He _couldn’t_.  “I’m not his friend, or your friend, or anyone’s friend.  I just want to get on with this alone, and I can’t do that while you’re putting this pressure on me.  I’m sorry.”

Eva and Vilde both stared at him mutely as he took a few steps away from them.  “Look, thank you both for being so nice to me but I don’t want it.  Stay away from me.”

He headed back inside, feeling the confused burn of their gazes against his back.  When he glanced back he saw Vilde pulling Eva into a tender hug, her lips against Eva’s.  He swallowed away the emotions he felt when he saw it and continued to walk.  

On his way in he passed by Thomas, sitting on his own as usual; he grinned when he saw Jonas before leaping enthusiastically to his feet.

“Good to see you back, man.”

Jonas stopped and looked at him.

“Ah, right, I get it.  You used those pills I gave you to try and top yourself?  You’re probably a bit pissed at me, even though I gave them to you in good faith?”

Jonas continued to stare.

“Look, it’s fine.  No harm, no foul.  I just want you to know that if you _are_ finding it difficult to cope, I’ve got better stuff, uppers, that are going to help you get back on -”

Jonas grabbed the older boy’s coat and pulled him close, snarling in his ear, “No _harm_ ?  Are you fucking _kidding_ me?  No fucking _harm_ ?  You’re a parasite. You feed off people who are vulnerable and then you have the nerve to come back when they’re trying to get better.  Keep the _fuck_ away from me.”

Thomas’s expression of fear, and his rapid nod of contrition, was almost enough to salvage the otherwise sheer misery of Jonas’s day.  Not that it meant anything.  He was well aware that he could relapse at any moment; that all he needed to do was go crawling back to Thomas, or anyone else who could supply him with the gateway he craved to a reality less harsh than the one he was in.

For now, though, he’d take it.  It was a small victory but it was all his.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eep! I'm nervous about this chapter but I hope you all enjoy. :-)
> 
> If you didn't see, I wrote a preview fic for this fic called And If Your Glass Heart Should Crack: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9563696
> 
> It's from Chris's POV and I'm very proud of it so please read/comment if you get the chance. <3
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Some upsetting descriptions of non-consensual activity, references to sexual harassment (non explicit)

Jonas tried to get on with it on his own for a while.  He attended each and every lesson, he worked diligently through break and lunch times, he attended his group therapy and his therapy with Daniel and he did it all without talking to his friends - or the people he used to call his friends - except for when they _tried_ to speak to him and he politely but firmly them to leave him alone.

He was lonely, though.  There was no denying it.  He spent more time with his family outside of school but they were no substitute for the easy jokes and laughter that he used to share with his friends.  Still, he deserved that, and he told himself so daily in order to strengthen his resolve.

And, anyway, his old friends had been fractured by what had happened and there was no easy way for him to fit back in.  Mahdi and Magnus were back to sitting alone, Vilde and Eva spent more and more time together, though sometimes they were joined by Sana and Chris (never Noora, because she and Eva still weren’t talking to each other after Eva’s defence of Jonas), and Isak continued to surround himself with Even and his friends.

Jonas took to deliberately avoiding the places where he knew the crowd of third years and Isak hung out.  He knew it hurt Isak to see Jonas almost as much as it hurt Jonas to see Isak.  Sometimes Jonas found himself catching a hint of blonde hair, a familiar snapback or hoodie, and he would hide himself in the toilet cubicles as he tried to sob away the sick gnawing in his stomach. It sometimes felt like he was physically being ripped apart by the grief he felt.  He had no idea how to quell this.

During therapy sessions, Daniel would sometimes ask him about the status of his friendships at school, and Jonas made things up.  He knew what Daniel would say - that he couldn’t keep punishing himself forever - but he wanted to keep this one thing to himself, so that Daniel’s logical words couldn’t steer him from this course.  He _wanted_ to feel this pain.  This pain was what kept him from slipping back into his old ways.

 

***

 

A few weeks after he’d returned to Nissen, he was sitting in his Norwegian classroom working on another assignment he’d missed during January.  He was, honestly, kind of bored with study at this point; he still had a lot to catch up on but he was beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel and so apathy was setting in.

Because he was sitting near the door, he was easily able to crane his neck to see out onto the corridor.  He had no reason to do this, because he’d perfected the art of wandering through school with his eyes down, until he heard the familiar sound of Even’s laughter, slightly louder than the others he was with.  Instinctively, he knew that Isak was with him, and before he could stop himself he was leaning back in his chair to look.

Isak was standing next to Even, as usual, and there was nothing particularly interesting about the scene other than this was the closest Jonas had been to Isak in almost a month.  The time apart had done Jonas good, in many ways; he wasn’t thinking about Isak quite so often now, and when he did he didn’t feel as relentlessly sick with himself.  It was a relief but it also made him feel sad, because he knew if _he_ was moving on, then Isak - whose feelings for Jonas were nowhere near as intense as Jonas’s were for him - must have been as well.

Now, though, Jonas felt that familiar tug in his chest when he saw Isak shifting awkwardly from one foot to another as Even stroked through his hair.  He had at once missed and hadn’t missed that physical sensation, and he sought a distraction from it almost immediately.

Jonas looked across from them to the group of third years they were talking with.  He only really knew Even’s friends by sight, and they seemed nice enough, but he frowned when his eyes fell upon Anders Silvertsen.  Now _that_ was highly unusual.  Anders wasn’t a bohemian or a hipster or a stoner like the rest of Even’s friends; he was a dickhead Russ through and through, and Jonas had never known him to associate with anyone outside of his Russ group.

And yet there he was, his arm around one of the girls in the group, talking and laughing with them as though he knew them all well.

Jonas hadn’t forgotten about the meeting he’d chanced upon between Isak and Anders; he hadn’t forgotten about the picture that Anders had sent to Isak.  Jonas had tried to fix that, but now… he wasn’t a part of Isak’s life anymore, and so Anders had no reason to worry about him telling people the truth about him.  The feeling hit him all at once: he’d completely forgotten about the risk Anders presented to Isak.  He felt sick with himself as the realisation dawned on him.

He watched, his brow pinching in suspicion, as Anders dominated the discussion and the other third years in the group, including Even, laughed at what he said.

He watched Isak smiling but not laughing along, pressed into Even’s side as he attempted to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

A short time later, Anders left, kissing the girl he’d been with on the cheek and waving goodbye to the rest of them.  Jonas wasn’t sure if he imagined Anders’ eyes raking over Isak as he left, but he definitely saw the way Isak turned to Even and rested his head on his shoulder in a gesture that seemed to beg for comfort.

Jonas looked back down at his work and shook his head, trying to forget what he’d seen.  It wasn’t his place.  It _wasn’t_.  He had to trust that Isak would tell Even if Anders’ presence was intimidating to him.  Isak was in therapy too, wasn’t he?  Surely he was learning about this stuff - about how to open up to his loved ones when he felt scared or alone?

Okay, so… maybe the irony of that wasn’t lost on Jonas.  But Isak _had_ to be more able to talk to someone than Jonas currently was.  After all, he had no atonements to make.  He was completely innocent and therefore he had no reason to isolate himself from the likes of Even and pretend that he was fine when he wasn’t.

Besides, just because Jonas had seen Anders talking to Even and Isak once, that didn’t mean he’d become a regular fixture in Isak’s life.  He was probably just trying to score some social points by mixing with other third year groups.

Jonas tried to put it from his mind.  It had nothing to do with him anymore, and that had been his decision, and his decision alone, to make.

 

***

 

As Jonas  was unlocking his bike from the stand at the end of the school day, Magnus came over to him with a nervous expression on his face.  He immediately found himself tensing up, and Magnus seemed to see it, faltering slightly before he said, “I miss you, man.”

Jonas looked down at his bike awkwardly.  What was he meant to say?   _I miss you too_.  Of course he did, but it wasn’t going to help either of them to admit it.

“I was thinking about the list you showed me in the hospital.  Your resolutions.  You said on that you were going to be a better friend.”

Jonas shrugged, trying to work out how to convince Magnus that his decisions were rational, even though he knew they weren’t.  “I decided the best way to do that was to leave everyone alone.”

“But you said we would talk.  That we were actually going to open up about our feelings.  Was that all bullshit?”  Clearly, Magnus had prepared his arguments in advance; he said them with a sort of steely determination that Jonas had never heard from him before.

“Magnus,” Jonas started, trying to explain. “I’m… deeply fucked up.  Like, clinically.  Maybe I thought in the hospital that I could do it, but I don’t want to hurt anyone again.  I just… I _can’t_ do it.”

Magnus looked at him challengingly.  He didn’t seem prepared to accept what Jonas was saying, so Jonas continued.

“Besides, Mahdi hates me, and he’s your best friend.  So… what is there left to say?”

“Well, that’s easy, then, isn’t it?” Magnus said.  “Mahdi has told you he can’t be around you right now, so you push everyone else away too.  Great thinking, Jonas.  That makes _so_ much sense.”

“What do you want me to do, Magnus?!” Jonas snapped.  Magnus blinked at him, taken aback by the forcefulness of his tone.  “The whole fucking group is a mess anyway because of me.  I can’t just fit back in.  And even if I could, how are things _ever_ going to go back to how they were?  When we all know how badly I fucked up with Isak?”

“Things don’t have to go back.  They just have to go forward.”  He ran a hand through his fringe and sighed, his eyes travelling upwards.  “Please, just… look at that list again.  You wrote it, and it was a good one.  If you’re going to get better, if you’re going to _be_ better, then let me and Eva and Vilde help you.  And if the rest don’t want to, that’s okay.  Whatever you’ve done, whatever they choose to do, nobody wants to see you being sad.”

“I’m _not_ sad,” Jonas said.  And as he said it, he remembered he’d said exactly the same thing the night they’d gone to Pulse; he’d assured Eva he was fine as he’d watched Even and Isak ahead of him, laughing and dancing in the street.  

But he had been.  He’d been unhappy in every conceivable way it was possible to be unhappy.  And because of that, he’d resigned himself to being alone for so long that he’d forgotten what it was like to put his trust in his friends.

He took a deep breath.  “Okay.”  He nodded decisively, forcing himself to say it.  “Okay, that’s a lie.  I _am_ sad.  I have been for… too long.”

Magnus nodded.  “I know.  A bro _always_ knows.”  He smiled.  “A bro also knows that pizza is the best cure for millennial teen sadness.”

“I thought that was memes?”

“Okay.  You find memes, I’ll buy the pizza.”

“Let’s do it the other way,” Jonas suggested.  “People haven’t been sending me so many memes after I, y’know, tried to kill myself.”

Magnus looked at him, not knowing what to say, and Jonas smiled.

“It’s okay, Magnus.  You don’t need to think ahead for trigger warnings.”  He straddled his bike.  “Well, are you coming?”

Magnus grinned and climbed on the back and they set off into town.

 

***

 

During therapy the next day, Daniel asked him again if there was anything to update with his friends.  Jonas had told him the truth only about Isak - that he was spending all his free time with Even and his friends and therefore Jonas didn’t have any contact with him - but now he paused and reflected about the lies he’d been telling about the likes of Magnus and Eva.

“Yes, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I went out for pizza yesterday with Magnus.”

“That’s good,” Daniel said, glossing over the underwhelming nature of the remark.  “I’ve always found pizza is very good for the soul.”

“Magnus pretty much said the same thing,” Jonas said, smiling.  “But, um… the reason I told you that is because it _was_ significant.  I haven’t… well, I haven’t been completely honest with you about the whole friend thing.  I’ve actually been pretty much alone at school these last few weeks.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s not because they weren’t talking to me,” Jonas pointed out quickly.  “Magnus, Eva and Vilde have all tried.  It’s me.  I’ve been cutting myself off from them.”

He paused, waiting for Daniel to chastise him in the roundabout way he had of doing so, but Daniel just asked,  “And why do you think you did that, Jonas?”

Jonas thought for a while about this before deciding to answer honestly.  “Two reasons, I guess.  The first is that I don’t feel I deserve friends right now.  Perhaps not ever.  And the second… the main one… I’m scared.  I’m scared that if things go back to normal, I might slip again.  I might hurt someone else, another one of my friends, or somehow find a way to get back into Isak’s life and hurt him again.”

“And you don’t feel you’re as likely to do this if you’re on your own?”

Jonas nodded.  “Exactly.  When I’m on my own, I’m not… I don’t go through things like anger and upset and suspicion.  My feelings are more… regulated? I guess?”

“What _do_ you feel when you’re alone, Jonas?”

“Nothing much.  Sometimes a bit sad, I guess.  A bit bored.  When I see Isak, or when I see Magnus and Mahdi laughing and fucking around, I feel pretty sad.  But that’s proof, isn’t it?  That shows it’s better to be alone because as soon as I see something I want, I feel it all start to rise in me again.  All those bad feelings.”

Daniel reflected on this, then smiled impenetrably.  “Bad feelings?  Are things like sadness and desire bad, Jonas?”

“For me, yes.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“You’re the therapist.  Work it out,” he said, feeling like kind of a brat as he did so.  Daniel just smiled, though; that unreadable smile that was so hard for Jonas to unpick.

“To use a bit of a therapist cliche, Jonas, I think you’re deflecting here.”

“Well, I think _you’re_ asking me questions that you already know the answer to.”

“The point of these questions is not for me to draw conclusions. It’s for you to reflect on and discuss what is happening inside your head.”

“Well, I’ve told you, haven’t I?”  Jonas said,  starting to feel irritated.  “You _know_ I associate those feelings with what happened.  With my… my suicide attempt.  And everything that happened with Isak.  So it should be obvious why I’m not… leaping straight back into the same situation.”

“Okay.  Let’s think about this for a moment,” Daniel said, which usually meant nothing good.  Jonas mentally steeled himself.  “Your feelings when you’re on your own feel more regulated, you said?  You’re more in control of them?”

Jonas nodded.  He couldn’t argue with that, he’d been the one to say it.

“And those feelings are mainly sadness and boredom?”

He nodded again.  He’d said that, too.

“Do you not believe these feeling have the potential to lead to destructive actions?”

_There it is._

“That _isn’t_ fair,” Jonas snapped in response.  “Of course they do.  Everything I do, everything I feel, has the potential to lead to that.  But surely there’s less chance of me hurting others, hurting myself, if I’ve detached myself from it?  You _have_ to see that, right?”

Daniel looked at him impassively and Jonas felt the irritation growing to anger; he felt his voice rising in volume as he said, “You can’t _do_ that, okay?  You can’t make me feel as though it’s hopeless either way.”

“It’s never hopeless, Jonas,” Daniel replied.  “So long as you’re sitting here, trying to discuss these feelings, it can’t be hopeless.”

Jonas felt something ugly twist inside of him and before he could stop himself he decided _now_ was the right time to drop some truth bombs in order to fuck up Daniel’s perception of him.

“I haven’t even told you about some of the bad shit I did,” he said challengingly.  “I haven’t told you about the fact that I went _back_ to Elias before he tried to attack Isak for the second time, that I encouraged his fantasies.  That’s the kind of thing I do, Daniel; I plot and I scheme when I can’t have what I want.  So don’t talk to me about fucking _hope_.”

Daniel looked taken aback by this sudden declaration, which was the reaction Jonas had been hoping for. Jonas listened as he deliberately changed course.

“Why do you think you did that?”

“Because… my mind was a mess.  I got it into my head that if Even and Elias were in the same room, they would hurt each other, that Even would go crazy and attack Elias and then I’d… I’d be the calm, reasonable one and Isak would turn to me for support.”

“I see.”

“I listened to Elias talk about what he would do to Isak, all the _sick_ things he had planned for him.  He talked about what he’d do to Even, how he’d _deal_ with him, and I listened and I encouraged to all of it.”  He tried to smirk at Daniel but it came out more like a grimace.  “You _see_ ?  I can’t be around people.  That’s the kind of thing I’m capable of.  I _can’t_ let my head get like that again.   _That’s_ what you’re meant to be telling me.”

“I understand that you’re scared, Jonas, and-”

“No!  You don’t understand, Daniel.  Stop being so fucking _understanding_ .  Tell me I’m a shithead.  Tell me I’m the worst fucking friend in the world.  Stop _understanding_.”  His heart was pounding in his chest; he hated himself again for believing he’d been able to spend time with Magnus, that he’d let his guard down for even a moment.  Elias’s words about Isak were flooding his head, the things Elias had told him they’d do to Isak… they were in his head again, unbidden, and he wanted to scratch his head open to get them back out.

“He told me how we’d do it.  That we’d bring him back to the apartment and we’d… we’d tie him to the bed if he tried to get away.  We’d gag him if he screamed.”  Jonas held a hand up to his mouth, dry sobs heaving through his body. “He said that it wouldn’t be a problem, though, because Isak was _a little slut_ for me.  That I needed to remember that even if Isak fought back, it was only because he loved it rough.”

He shuddered bodily, his entire body clamming up; the words were as lucid in his memory as if it had been yesterday.

“He talked about what he’d done to Isak at the cabin.  How _shit_ Isak had been at taking cock, and how hot that was, how much he enjoyed choking him.”  He wrapped his hands around his stomach, trying to push the bile back inside.  “I listened to all of this.  I let him think… I let him think it was okay to talk about Isak in that way.”  He looked at Daniel now, his eyes wide.  “There is _no_ justification for what I did.  None at all.  If I was capable of doing something like that, I’m capable of doing it again.”

There was a long pause, the clock ticking somewhere in the room, as Daniel seemed to reflect heavily on this confession.

“You’re right, of course, Jonas,” he said finally, which surprised Jonas somewhat.  “You feel tremendous amounts of guilt and self-hatred and in some ways you’re justified.  Even if you didn’t plan on hurting Isak, you _did_ conspire with Elias, and you put both Even and Isak in danger by doing so.”

Jonas nodded.   _Finally_.  Finally Daniel got it.

“I can give you the psychological reasons behind why you did this but in the long run they don’t amount to much.  You actively made a decision to conspire with Isak’s rapist and that will stay with you for quite some time.”  Daniel paused, then looked at Jonas with a serious expression on his face.  “The question is, Jonas, how do you wish to proceed?  I will tell you this much: being on your own might seem the preferable option at the moment, but it won’t be long before your loneliness manifests itself into the _bad feelings_ you’ve spoken about.  This might sound like the situation is hopeless, but it isn’t.  You have options.”

Jonas laughed humorlessly.  “I do, do I?”

“You do.  Your meetings with Elias were after your drug dependency had took hold, yes?” Daniel asked.  Jonas nodded reluctantly.  “How did you feel at that point?  Did you feel safe?  Did you feel loved by your friends?  Did you feel happy?”

“No.  I felt none of those things.”

“And do you think you’d have gone through with it if your life had felt positive?  If you’d felt that it had a clear purpose, one which you felt happy about?”

“No, of course not, but-”

“But nothing, Jonas,” Daniel said firmly.  Jonas gawped at him slightly.  “I’m sorry, it’s not usually my place to actively _tell_ someone to listen, but in this case I think it’s appropriate.  People need people, Jonas.  It is a simple and unalterable fact of life.  If we do not have people who we can talk to, who we can relate to, who we want to share good and bad times with, we stagnate, and we become lonely.  We become scared.  We become harder and less emphatic and we become entirely egocentric, thinking only of ourselves.  Does that sound familiar?”  

Daniel peered at him from over his spectacles and Jonas felt himself flush slightly.

“I can’t tell you what to do.  I can’t tell you to go and find your friends and allow them to love you again.  I can’t tell you not to cut yourself off from everything that gives your life purpose.  But I _can_ tell you, Jonas, that if you continue on this path of isolation, you _will_ regret it.”

Jonas let the words sink in.  He’d wanted to hurt Daniel, in a way; he’d wanted to achieve one thing from this session: he’d wanted Daniel to tell him _no_ , you shouldn’t allow yourself to have friends until you’re fixed.

But Daniel had said nothing of the sort.  Even after hearing what Jonas had done, he still believed he should be surrounding himself with people who cared for him.  It didn’t make any sense to Jonas but then, maybe his own thoughts were the screwed up ones.  Maybe Daniel’s neutral observation really was the best way for Jonas to move on.

“That kind of sounds to me like you’re telling me what to do,” he pointed out once he realised Daniel’s challenge was still hanging between them, waiting to be addressed.  Daniel shrugged.

“I suppose nobody’s perfect.”

 

***

 

And so Jonas began to take the first few tentative steps towards letting people in.  He sometimes ventured out of the classrooms at lunch.  He tried to smile at people when they smiled at him.  He sat with Eva and Vilde a couple of times a week, and even if he didn’t talk very much, he forced himself to listen to them and make at least one or two comments to show he wasn’t trying to be reclusive.  He met Magnus once a week after school and they would go out to eat.  He opened up more during his group therapy sessions.

He told Daniel all of this, and Daniel told him he was proud of him.  And that made Jonas feel good, in a way.   _Not_ that he was doing this to impress Daniel but… well, it felt nice to receive praise, even if it was for something so small.

And through all of this, he tried to avoid Isak, because that was the one thing he didn’t want to go back on, but fate intervened after a while and he began to realise he would have to do something.  Because Anders _fucking_ Silvertsen had clearly ingratiated himself within the group of third years at this point, and Jonas could no longer ignore it.  

Yes, Anders had an excuse to be there - he was clearly dating one of the girls because he was always physically attached to her.  Therefore it was inevitable they’d spend time together.  But Jonas knew that it was a lie, because he knew the truth about Anders.  And if he’d gone to the trouble of picking _that_ specific girl, a rather plain looking third year who Anders had nothing in common with, then there was a reason for it, and to Jonas the reason was obvious.

He debated bringing the subject up with Eva and Vilde, but he didn’t want to talk about Isak specifically and he knew that they would automatically work out why he was asking.  So, he watched; he kept an eye on Anders, and on Isak’s reactions when he was with him.  He wasn’t able to do this often, as Even was hyperaware of Jonas’s presence and would glare balefully at him if he lingered too long when he was in the general vicinity of Isak.

And because of this, Jonas felt himself growing annoyed at Even; he tried to regulate those feelings of annoyance, tried to convince himself it was a normal and healthy emotion, but the fear remained: his milder feelings would soon give way to something altogether darker and more obsessive.

One Tuesday, he was heading to the canteen to meet Eva and Vilde for lunch when he passed by the now familiar group of third years.  He tried not to look, but his mind processed a few things before he could stop himself: Even wasn’t there, and Anders was, and Anders was holding court with the other third years, saying something to Isak that made the whole group laugh.

Jonas watched as Isak flushed, and then Anders pulled him close and kissed him on the cheek mockingly, ruffling his hair, and Jonas saw the fake smile on Isak’s face, saw the fear in his eyes, as the rest of the Even’s friends continued to laugh at whatever Anders had said about him.

Before Jonas could stop himself he was barging past the people in the corridor to get to the group; he slammed Anders back against the lockers, his face contorted with anger.

“Don’t you _ever_ touch him,” he snarled.  There were shocked gaps around him, a couple of murmurs of incredulity, and then Isak was trying to prise his arms away.

“Jonas, please,” he begged.  “You’ll get into trouble.   _Stop it_.”

And then Anders was lunging back at him; he was a large guy and he easily pushed Jonas to the ground.  Jonas felt the anger course through him as he picked himself up, launching himself back at the older boy.  Anders’ girlfriend screamed at them both and hordes of students gravitated towards them, easily sniffing the fight out with excitement.

Jonas managed one punch before Anders winded him in the stomach with three more, pinning him against the locker.  Blood rushed to Jonas’s head as adrenaline kicked in; he grabbed Ander’s neck and tried to squeeze as Anders cut him off with a vicious slap to the face that made his head slam into the hard metal.  “I can do this _all_ day, faggot,” Anders hissed in his ear, loud enough only for Jonas to hear.

The next thing Jonas knew, he’d been dropped by Anders, and Even was standing in between the two of them.  “What the _fuck_ is going on?” he asked, as Jonas clutched his aching stomach.

“This guy just fucking _attacked_ me,” Anders said.  Even looked to Anders’ girlfriend, and a couple of his friends, who nodded in agreement.  Then he looked at Isak.  Isak was looking at Jonas with a frightened expression on his face.   _He thinks I’m going to tell Even the truth_ , Jonas realised.

“Isak?  Is that true?”

“Maybe Jonas… got the wrong impression?” Isak said desperately.  “Even, please, just leave it, it’s fine.”

Even looked Jonas up and down, his mouth twisting into a frustrated grimace.  “You’re pathetic,” Even told him.  “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”  He pulled Isak to him and tried to steer him away from the scene; the other students had begun to disperse now they saw the fight had been halted and he held onto Isak’s shoulder as he worked his way through the small huddle.

“ _I’m_ pathetic?” Jonas snapped.  Even glanced back at him.  Jonas looked across to see Eva rushing towards him and he braced himself, determined to get this out.  “At least I _know_ when things aren’t right with Isak.  I’m not even part of your little group and I can see what’s happening.”

“And what’s that, Jonas?” Even asked angrily.

“Look on Isak’s phone,” Jonas told him.  “I’m sure that Anders has sent him more by now than the fucking _dick pic_ Isak showed me weeks ago.”

Anders face drained of colour and he started towards Jonas with an apocalyptic expression on his face.  Even pushed him back, but his own confidence was faltering and he turned to Isak in confusion.

“Isak?” he asked.  Isak looked from Even to Jonas, to the crowd that were still watching, and finally to Anders, his eyes wide with fright.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” he said to Even, so softly that only Jonas, Even and Anders could hear him.

Jonas felt his blood run cold.  He instinctively began to imagine what Anders had already done to Isak and he tried to walk away, needing to not be here to listen to this; he took in Even’s reaction, the way his face dropped, and he realised what was about to happen.  He _couldn’t_ do this, he couldn’t see Even lose control again. He needed to get away, get some fucking pills, fucking _forget_ what was happening.

But before he could do any of that, Eva marched forward and grabbed his arm.

“This is _not_ the place,” she told him and Even.  They looked at her.  “You think Isak needs this being discussed with a fucking _audience_?  What is wrong with you both?!”  She pointed to an empty classroom.  “In there.  All three of you.”

Jonas nodded, ready to agree to anything if it made her less furious in that moment.  He stepped aside as Even and Isak walked ahead of him, following her instructions.  Jonas was about to join them when he felt Anders grab his arm.

“You fucking _tell_ everyone you’re a lying little suicide case.  Now!”

Jonas looked at him, shaking his head with a humourless laugh, as Eva grabbed his arm.

“Whatever that little _slut_ tells you, remember he encouraged me,”

Jonas looked round, hoping to God that Isak hadn’t heard that, and was relieved to see him already in the classroom with Even, some distance away, the two of them talking heatedly but their voices not audible from here.

He turned back to face Anders but Eva had already got there first.  She stared him down, just about reaching chest height on him, her eyes burning with disgust.  “You know what _slut_ means to a guy like you?  Someone you want but can’t have.”  She looked across to Anders’ girlfriend.  “Brit, your boyfriend is gay, and more importantly, he’s an arsehole.  Sorry to break it to you.”

She took Jonas’s arm again and pulled him into the classroom as Anders let rip with a stream of insults at the both of them.  Once inside, she closed the door behind them and let out a small, decisive sigh.

“Okay.  I think it’s time to talk.”

Even looked up from where he’d been trying to talk to Isak.  The younger boy was leaning against a table looking anxious, his face pale and drawn.   “No.  Get him out of here,” Even said, pointing at Jonas.  “I don’t care if he was right with Anders, he’s not coming near Isak.”

“Even… do you not think we need to let Isak decide that right now?” Eva asked reasonably.

“No.  No, I don’t.  This needs to be simple.  If we talk it becomes too complicated.  Jonas, _leave_.  Please?”  Even said, his tone frantic: he was worried, genuinely worried, and it made Jonas feel like shit.

He genuinely considered following Even’s instruction; his palm found the door handle and he was gripping to turn it when Eva exploded with anger.  

“Fuck you, Even!  You can’t control people’s actions.  You _can’t_ .  Jonas has basically just told you that your boyfriend has been harassed for _weeks_ by someone you were laughing and joking around with before the last five minutes happened.  Both Jonas and I care about Isak and we need to know he’s being supported.  So don’t tell _any_ of us what we can and can’t do, okay?!”  

She caught her breath before changing her mind and continuing to rail at him.  “You do realise we’ve been friends with Isak for years?  Whatever bad shit has happened between him and Jonas recently, you can’t just erase that history between us.  And you can’t keep cutting him off from his friends.  It isn’t fair on him, or on us, or on _anyone_.”

Jonas listened, his hand still on the door; he took in some of her words in but mostly he watched Isak’s reactions, concerned at how quiet he was being.

“Isak and I agreed that it was better he didn’t have any pressure on him with his friends, while he was undergoing his therapy.  That’s all.  I’m not trying to keep him from anyone other than Jonas, and you _know_ the reason for that,” Even responded to her.  He sighed, looking very tired.  “I know how this comes across but -”

“Even is right,” Isak said quietly.  “It wasn’t just him that decided this.  I thought it would be easier if I didn’t speak to anyone who reminded me of Jonas.”

Jonas flinched at that, and Isak looked horrified with himself.  “I don’t… I’m not trying to forget you.  It’s just, it hurts so much at times when I see _you_ hurting and I thought it was better if I gave you some space.”

“I don’t know how to help him sometimes,” Even said, still talking to Eva, his eyes purposefully not going anywhere near Jonas.  “No, actually... _most_ of the time.  I’m just trying to work this out in my head and I keep getting it wrong and I fucking _hate_ it.”  He blinked back tears and took a deep breath as Isak moved closer to him, tilting his head as he took Even’s hand.

It was a shock to see Even admitting to his insecurities in this way.  Jonas had always taken it for granted that Even knew what he was doing - even when he’d been ignoring Isak, immediately after his attack at _Pulse_ , he’d assumed deep down that Even had a good reason for it.  Now Jonas could see that wasn’t the case at all.  

He leant back against the classroom wall, wishing he could sink into it, not understanding how he was meant to respond to any of this.

“The thing is,” Eva said, after silence had settled between them all, “You and Isak still aren’t really talking.  Isak is staying away from Jonas because he wants to protect him, and you’re trying to keep Isak away from Jonas because you’re still angry about what he did.  That’s two completely different things.”

“But it all amounts to the _same_ thing,” Even said, shrugging.

“Not really.  Because you can’t keep doing this forever.  One day, Isak is going to want to see Jonas again, if he doesn’t already want to.  Are you going to try and keep them apart forever?”

Jonas looked down at the floor, wishing acutely for the first time since his suicide attempt that his system was pumped full of pills again.  He needed to care less, he needed to feel less.  He swiped at his eyes with his hands.

Even didn’t answer, so Eva tried again.

“And now, you’ve tried to keep Isak safe but you cut him off from his friends and Isak has been targeted _again_ , and maybe that wouldn’t have happened if Isak felt more supported.”

“He could have told me,” Even said, but he looked disgusted with himself, as though he didn’t really believe what he was saying.  “He… he could have talked to my friends, even, or…”

Isak let out a small humourless laugh at that and they all looked at him.  “Your friends kind of hate me, Even.”

Even blinked at him.  “What?”

Isak shrugged.  “A couple of them are okay but mostly they think I’m… stupid, or whatever.  They miss you being with Sonja.  They’re not really that nice to me.”

Even looked horrified at this.  “Why didn’t you say something?”

Isak looked down at his lap.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know why I keep things like this to myself.  Like with Anders.  I knew logically I should say something but my head gets… full, you know?  My responses get mixed up and...  I just convince myself I deserve it.”

“The therapy, though,” Jonas said.  It was the first time he’d spoken since he’d been in the room and they all looked at him in surprise.  “That helps you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.  Yeah, it does.  A month or so ago, I wouldn’t have even been able to admit that… what Anders had done was wrong.  But… it’s still hard.  It’s still hard to not blame myself when things get stressful.  I _know_ I shouldn’t avoid confrontation but it’s, like, hardwired into me.”  He shrugged.  “Anders didn’t hurt me or anything, he’s just been… texting, and stuff.  I suppose I just told myself it was fine, that I was being stupid for even worrying about it.  I put it out of my mind when it wasn’t happening.”

“You’re repressing your emotions again,” Jonas said.  Isak nodded, and Jonas smiled wryly.  “I guess we’re both working on that right now.”

Isak looked at him from under his long lashes and smiled in return; for a moment, they were united in their fucked-upness and it felt good.  But then Even was shaking his head, his hands on Isak’s face, turning him towards him.

“Baby, I can’t… I can’t watch you fall into this trap again.  Not with him.  I’m sorry for Anders, okay?  We can talk about where to go next, how we’re going to do this, but your relationship with Jonas is _toxic_.  Even you’ve admitted that.”

“Even-” Eva started, her voice lowering in warning, but Jonas interrupted her.

“He’s right, Eva.  We’re too… we’re both too damaged from what Elias did.  It doesn’t mean we can’t ever be friends, but for now, we need to heal separately.”

Isak looked at him with a meaningful expression on his face and nodded.  “I think it’s for the best.”  He looked across at Even and his voice developed a blunter tone.  “That doesn’t mean we’re not going to spend any time together, though.  Because I refuse.  I hate not being able to talk to Jonas.  It makes me so miserable.  But I understand there needs to be limits put on it at the moment.”

Even didn’t look convinced but he could see the determination in Isak’s eyes and Jonas saw him mentally back down, his body slumping slightly.

“All I want to do is protect you,” he said to Isak, murmuring softly to him as though he was the only one in the room.  “That’s it.”

“I get that, but… I need to learn how to protect myself too,” Isak told him.  “And not just… pretending it’s not happening.  I need to be clear in my head.  I need to find ways to solve my issues.”

They fell into silence and Jonas found himself smiling despite everything.   _I need to learn how to protect myself, too._ It was such a simple statement and yet Jonas felt so proud of Isak for saying it, for admitting out loud that his method of protection so far hadn’t been good for him, and that he was no longer going to allow himself to be fought over like a broken object that people tried to pin blame on behalf of.

“Besides,” Isak continued with a sigh, “I have to go and record this… this video for the court.  I have to tell them what Elias did to me in the cabin.  And I need my friends.  I need to be with people who care for me at the moment.”

Even nodded, his face now drawn in guilt and shame, and Isak leaned in and pressed his lips to Even.  “It’s okay,” he told him quietly.  Eva looked at Jonas in silence, but Jonas found he wasn’t angry or upset to see them like this.  He just needed Isak to get better, and he knew, he’d always known, that Even’s love for Isak, and Isak’s love for Even, helped him to _be_ better.

“Are you worried about it?” Eva asked once Isak had pulled away from Even.  “Is anyone going with you?”

“Even will.  And my dad… I had to tell him.  Because I’m a minor, so they needed someone to sign the papers.”  He smiled.  “And as much as Eskild thinks he’s my legal guardian, he isn’t _actually_.  So.”

“How did your dad take it?” Jonas asked.  

“Okay.  My dad takes everything _okay_.”

Jonas nodded.  That had always been the case with Isak’s dad.  He had a practised mildness that seemed to gloss over the more horrific things Isak’s mum had said and done to their son. The day he’d left them behind, he’d called Isak to tell him to chuck out all the sharp objects in the house, but the tone he had used was singularly mild and unaffected by the horror of what he was implying: Jonas had listened in silence and almost grabbed the phone off of Isak in his anger.

“And you have to… to talk about Elias?  About that weekend?” Jonas asked.  “What about _Pulse_?”

“I didn’t include any of the details about _Pulse_ in my statement.  I didn’t want to… well, Even isn’t a minor, and he might have been called on for evidence.  And obviously there was the whole… _other_ thing to consider.  His attack on Elias.  So, I decided not to say anything.”  He shrugged.  “But as to the rest, yeah.  I have to explain what happened.  I have to… talk about what he did to me.  They already have some of it on video but not all of it.”

“Jesus,” Eva said.  “I’m so sorry, Isak.  I’m so… I _hate_ myself for not realising what had happened to you at the cabin.  We were _there_ and we didn’t...” She trailed off.  “I hate myself for it every time I think about it.”

Jonas tried to speak but the words stuck in his throat and he simply nodded.

“It’s not your fault, Eva.  You can’t hate yourself.  I did a lot to hide it.  So did Elias.”

“But we should have… we should have picked up on it.  We should have _heard_.”

“He was really quiet,” Isak said.  “He… he covered my mouth with his hand when I started crying.  He said we needed to be quiet because if you guys came in and saw, then you’d know the truth about me, about what a slut I was.”

“Fuck,” Eva said.   _“Fuck_.”

“Is it… is it okay to talk about this?” Isak asked them.  He looked upset with himself.  “I’m so nervous about this video recording and -”

“It’s fine,” Jonas said before Isak could talk himself out of it.  He could see Even working out whether to argue, to say it wasn’t appropriate for Jonas to be listening, but in the end he just nodded.

“I talked to Chris the other day,” Isak said, more to Eva than anyone else.  “He texted me to ask how I was, and I ended up calling him.  He was the only one that had seen me with Elias... like _that_ … back then.  Before _Pulse_ , before all of that stuff recently.  And I wanted to ask him what he saw.”

Jonas could tell from Even’s surprised expression that Isak hadn’t told him this.

“He explained it to me,” Isak continued, “because I don’t remember that whole time so well.  It brought some of it back.  Elias called me _slut face_ , and I hated that, I remember telling him not to, the first time he said it, and he… he actually slapped me.  That was the first night he was there, at the cabin.”

“You came out and stayed on the sofa that night,” Jonas said dully.  “I saw you and I didn’t…”  Isak looked at him and nodded.

“He told me that if I couldn’t be polite, I could sleep outside.  And to be honest I wanted to be out there because I didn’t really… _understand_ … what he was making me feel.  I couldn’t work out if I was being paranoid, or if I was doing something to _tease_ him, like he said.”

“And the second night?” Eva asked.  Jonas was keeping one eye on Isak and the other on Even but he could hear her voice quaver, he understood how much this was upsetting her.   _Fuck Elias_.  Fuck him for doing this, for causing so much pain to so many people, simply by hurting Isak.

“I… I tried to sleep.  He was pretty high and I thought he’d just be out of it.  But then I… I felt him get into the bed beside me.  He was,” Isak swallowed sharply, his hands coming up to his neck, “he was kissing me, telling him how high weed made him.  I just froze, I didn’t know what to say or do.”

“He tried to… he said he wanted to fuck me and that’s when I started crying.  And he was shhing me, covering my mouth, telling me to stop.  He said that if I was too scared to do that, I could just suck him instead.  So he made it sound like a choice, even though…”

 _Even though it wasn’t a choice at all_ , Jonas finished in his own head, as Isak trailed off.

“I tried to convince myself it was good, that I could finally be myself and try something with a guy, but… I didn’t like him.  He was horrible to me all the time, he made me feel weird inside and not in a good way.”  The words came out of Isak like a confession and none of them could look away from him.  “But… I tried.  I tried to tell myself it was what I wanted, and he kept saying it, so it must have been true.”

Jonas looked at Even, who hadn’t said a word since Isak had begun to speak about this.  His expression was one of sheer pain and it made Jonas feel awful all over again.  He could see how much Even loved Isak, and he’d tried to destroy that.  He’d tried to destroy one of the few lifelines that Isak had ever been given.

“He started filming me then, on his phone.  I was… I was still crying but he was asking me if I wanted it and I nodded.  I really thought I did.  Because he’d made me feel like I had no choice.”

“How much did he film?” Jonas asked.  Isak shrugged.

“I can’t remember, and I didn’t want to watch it back.  Quite a lot, I think.  When I was… when I sucked him off, I think he got all of that.”  He shuddered visibly and Even moved to reach out for him.  Isak sank into his touch.  “I was bad at it and he thought it was funny.  I kept choking and he didn’t care, he just pushed it down further.  He said that I deserved it for having a _slut face_ .”  Isak’s face crumpled and he clung to Even’s chest.  “It was like… I’d objected the night before to such a stupid little thing, and I deserved everything I got after that.  I believed it.  I don’t understand _how_ he could have made me feel that way so easily.”

“Because he was good at it,” Jonas said.  They all looked across at him.  “When he knew what he wanted, he committed himself to getting it.  He was obsessive.  And he was a sociopath.  He didn’t care who got hurt.  In fact, he enjoyed hurting people.”

And as he said the words, he realised that he had come to terms with something: he wasn’t like Elias, because Jonas had never enjoyed hurting others.  He had taken no pleasure in what he’d done to Isak and Even.  The guilt of it still ate him up whole every day.  

He wondered if Elias felt guilty now, as he waited for his trial.  He couldn’t imagine he would.

“You’re going to do great, Isak,” Eva told him, when Isak’s recount had reached a natural end.  “You just need to tell them exactly what you told us here today.  You’ll get through this, I know you will.”

Even nodded in agreement.  “And if you’re worried, if you _think_ you can’t get through it, you just have to look at me and remember how much I love you.”

Isak leant forward, his head in Even’s chest, and Even wrapped his arms around Isak’s shoulders and rocked him slightly.  Jonas stood up, deciding now was a good time to leave, but then Isak pulled away, remembering something.

“Chris is going to give evidence in court,” Isak told them.  Jonas blinked, surprised by that; he saw Eva and Even similarly taken aback by it.  “He can’t do much but he can say what he saw the night of the party.”

“Do you… can Jonas and I do anything? Can we give any evidence?” Eva asked.  Isak shook his head.

“I gave them your names but because you didn’t see anything they said it wasn’t necessary.  I think they try not to use minors where possible.”

“So we just have to wait?” Jonas asked.  

“The court case is set for March eighth,” Even responded to him.  “Just a few weeks away.”  He sounded vaguely civil but Jonas knew he wasn’t okay with Jonas knowing all of this, not really.

“And then it will all be over,” Isak said, “And we can all just…. move on.”

Jonas nodded.  It wasn’t over yet; they all still had a long way to go.   But his mind was clearer now than it had been in months and he knew there were a couple of things left to do first.

“Who is going to take care of Anders?” he asked.  Even rolled his eyes.

“That would be me.”

Jonas snorted at that.  “Seeing as the last time _you_ tried to sort something, you almost ended up killing someone, perhaps you should let me?  You just take care of your shitty ex friends and let me handle Anders.  Besides,” he said, and before he could stop himself he verbalised the thought that had been half formed at the back of his mind for weeks now, “I think I’m going to transfer to Bakka, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”

Isak looked at him, opening his mouth to protest; he saw Eva’s eyes widen as well, but he fixed himself with a firm demeanor, standing up straight.

“Isak, you said it yourself.  We need boundaries, if we’re going to move forward.  And I… I _need_ a fresh start.  I need to put this behind me now.”  He looked at Isak, taking in his tearful face, the way he'd seized up in fright at the thought of this.  It proved to him that he was right, and with that he felt a peace that he normally wouldn't have associated with making such a big decision  “It doesn’t mean we’re not going to see each other again.  It just means it’s... a bit easier to cope with.”

He thought Isak might argue but instead, he glanced at Even who was watching the scene suspiciously; Isak walked over slowly and Jonas wasn’t sure who made the first move but they were both hugging, clinging onto each other as he pressed his face into Isak’s hair and tried not to think about how good this felt.

“You don’t have to,” Isak whispered in his ear, and Jonas shook his head.

“I do.  I do.”

When they finally let go, Isak looked at him, his face tear-stained but resigned.  He nodded at Jonas.  Then he walked back to Even, who pulled him into a hug and didn’t let him go.

Eva nodded at him discreetly and they left the classroom.  As they walked away, she linked her arm through his.  When Jonas glanced back, he saw Isak’s arms around Even’s waist, his eyes closed, as Even whispered softly into his ear.  He looked at Eva and smiled, and she rested her head on his arm.

Jonas wasn’t sure what she would say and he prepared himself for another protest.  But instead she pulled him close and told him, “You have to do what’s right for you, Jonas.  If you stay, I’m here for you.  If you go, I’m here for you.  I just want you to be happy.”

Jonas nodded.

Because happiness… seemed like a strange concept right now.  But at least it no longer seemed like an impossible one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too long to go! What would you like to see happen before the end? Comments are love, as always. <333


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't say too much about this chapter because I hope to post the epilogue in no more than a day or two. But... I hope you enjoy. I really do. <3
> 
> (And there are no trigger warnings! None!)

_And love is not the easy thing_

_The only baggage you can bring_

_Is all that you can't leave behind_

**_\- Walk On, U2_ **

 

_***_

 

_J: Did you keep the texts that Anders sent you_

_J: Isak? Come on I know there were more than that first one_

 

_I: What are you doing with them?_

 

_J: Just send me some screenshots. Delete him from your contacts so his phone number is at the top_

 

_I: Jonas…_

_J: Isak..._

 

_I: Only if you promise not to go to Bakka_

_I: I’m joking. Kind of._

 

_J: You know it’s okay for you to be mad at him. You can be angry at what he did._

_J: And… I know ok? I know this sucks. But I have to go._

 

_I: Fine ok give me a minute_

 

***

 

The process for transferring schools was far simpler than Jonas had expected.  

He told his mum of his decision the same evening he’d made it; she asked him if he was sure, but she was clearly relieved, holding him close for minutes as she told him how she was proud of him.

The next morning, she rang Bakka while Jonas ate breakfast in the kitchen.  They told her to come in as soon as possible with Jonas to fill in some forms.  They also told her that, so long as there was no disciplinary procedures in actions, transfers usually took a couple of days and he could possibly start at his new school on Monday of the following week.

He tried to get a sense of Bakka as they walked through the empty corridors, classes already in session, listening to the pupil liaison officer talking about how common it was for pupils to transfer between the two school and that Jonas might even recognise some students that used to go to Nissen.

“I hope not,” he joked.  “I’m trying to get away from those losers.”

She gave a nervous laugh as if she couldn’t work out if he was serious, and his mum glared at him.

“Please, don’t listen to my son.  He fancies himself as a bit of a comedian.”

Jonas smiled at her charmingly.

“Well, we do appreciate students with a good sense of humour,” she said unsurely, as they continued down the corridor to the office.

 

***

 

In the afternoon, his mum took him to Nissen and walked him to the reception area.  The pastoral manager filled out the appropriate paperwork to register his leaving date, and looked at him while they loaded up his file on the computer.  She told him officiously, “It’s not too late to change your mind, Jonas.  We’d be very sorry to lose you.”  

He looked around the school; the familiar corridors, the signs that he knew off by heart, the smell of the place he associated with both friendship, and friendship gone wrong.  He steeled himself, smiled, and said, “This is what I want.”  

His mum left him once they’d finished, and he made his way round to each of his teachers at Nissen, in order to tell them he was leaving tomorrow.  They loaded him up with work - though they warned him the curriculum was likely to be different at Bakka - and they all wished him good luck.  His Norwegian teacher even cried a little, as she told him he could always come back if he changed his mind.

“Thanks,” he said.  “To be honest… the grade you gave me on that assignment in January was the first time I started to realise something wasn’t right, in terms of my… addiction.  So.”  He smiled at her.  “Thank you.  You could have made me feel like shit that day but you were actually really kind.”

She cried even harder at that, and shooed him out of the classroom.

He didn’t want to see any of his friends today.  Once he was done he headed back out of the school, or at least tried to.  He heard a yell from the other end of the corridor as he was approaching the exit, and saw Magnus running towards him.

“Hey,” his friend said, breathing in and out slightly from the minor physical exertion.  “When were you going to tell me?”

Jonas glanced down at the floor.  “Tomorrow.  When I leave properly.”

“Wow,” Magnus said.  Jonas swallowed sharply.  He could see the hurt expression on Magnus’s face and he realised with a sinking feeling that he’d been thoughtless again.  He hadn’t considered telling anyone outside of Eva, Even and Isak… and he had only told them because he’d needed to say it out loud to someone.

“I’m not… deserting you, okay?  I’m going to a different school, not a different city.  We’re still going to do pizza and meme night.”

“Maybe I’ll do pizza and meme night with Mahdi instead,” Magnus said, only half joking.  Jonas pretended to be outraged.

“So much for helping me to cure my millennial teen sadness.”

“Yeah, well, you’re getting a bit too snowflakey for my liking.”

Jonas smiled, and Magnus breathed deeply and then they both said, “I’m sorry,” at the same time.  Well, Magnus said, “Bro, sorry,” but it was still enough of a coincidence for them to laugh and for the atmosphere to lift.

Jonas thought for a moment and checked his watch.  “Actually… I was going to get something done at home, but maybe you can help me here.  Do you fancy a little… mischief?”

Magnus raised an eyebrow.  “What are you thinking?”

“The complete and utter destruction of a dickhead third year?”

“Oh, is this about that Anders creep?”

Jonas nodded and Magnus grinned conspirically.  “Sure. Let’s do it, man.”

 

***

 

At the end of the school day, he headed over for his therapy session with Daniel.  It was a clear and crisp February day, and he biked over with what felt like an optimistic feeling in his stomach.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d really felt excited about something, and when he shared his news with Daniel, the older man seemed to pick up on his good mood and smiled with a sense of pride that made Jonas realise that his therapist was actually affected by the moods of the people who came to see him, day in, day out.  Or he’d at least learnt to pick up on their positive emotions, and remain neutral when it came to the negative ones.  Jonas wondered if one day, he’d be able to understand how to do that himself.

“That’s good to hear,” Daniel told him.  “Are you nervous, though?”

Jonas paused, then answered honestly.  “I mean, of course.  It could be awful.  I could be making everything worse for myself.  I’ve got Eva, I’ve got Magnus, Vilde… they’ve all been great, recently, even though I’ve made that difficult for them.  But then I think about Isak, and about how we both need to move on, and it just feels right, you know?”

Daniel nodded.  “I understand, and I agree.  If something feels right - honestly and truly _right_ \- then it is rarely something else.  But I do hope you understand that you don’t need to deprive yourself of a friendship with Isak?”

“No,” Jonas said, shaking his head.  “No, I… I understand that.  But we need distance between us, right?  We need to set boundaries.”

“Are you asking for my assurance?”

Jonas looked at him and then sighed.  “I guess?”

“I think you’ve made a very brave decision that will hopefully allow you to lay down some new foundations in your life.  I don’t think it’s necessary to cut yourself off from anyone, not even Isak.  If he still wants you in his life, and if you still want him in yours, then work together on nurturing your friendship and shaping it into what you’d like to see.”

“And how do we do that?”

“Through finding new ways to communicate.  Breaking habits that cause you upset and anger and find new, positive ways to connect with each other.”  He looked at Jonas over his spectacles and asked, “Tell me, Jonas: what are some of the things that frustrate you about Isak?”

Jonas shrugged.  For some reason the question bothered him.  “Isn’t that kind of redundant to ask?  I thought I was meant to be focusing on the positives?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever told you that explicitly.  You can recognise negative thoughts and feelings and use those to develop healthier coping mechanisms.”

“Okay,” Jonas said.  He still wasn’t convinced but Daniel usually seemed to know what he was doing.  “You want to know what I don’t _like_ about Isak?” he clarified.

“Not necessarily just Isak himself.  What frustrates you about his… existence... in general?  What things that make up who Isak is do you find yourself reacting to in a negative way?”

“The fact he has a boyfriend,” Jonas said automatically.  Daniel nodded, and wrote this down.  “I mean, that’s the main thing.  That’s the thing that causes me the most amount of… upset, or whatever.”

“Anything else?”

“He… he can be frustrating at times, because he’s so passive.  He doesn’t get angry.”

Daniel wrote this down as well.

“He blames himself for everything that’s happened to him.  He never blames anyone else.”

“Would you say that’s linked to his passivity?”

Jonas nodded, and Daniel extended the last point he’d written.

“This isn’t his fault but… the way some guys look at him, the way they are around him.  I hate that.  I hate that he’s so… he’s so attractive to a certain type of guy.  The wrong kind of guy.”  He watched as Daniel noted this down.  “He has panic attacks and I don’t know how to help him when that happens.  He doesn’t sleep well or eat well and I worry about what would happen to him if he ever broke up with Even, how he’d cope if Even isn’t there for him and I can’t be there for him in the way I used to be.  And…”

“Yes? “ Daniel said, still trying to catch up with the last point.

“He isn’t in love with me anymore.”

Daniel nodded and wrote this final point down.  Then he handed Jonas the list, and Jonas read it through, his hands trembling slightly, even though he hadn’t noticed himself becoming upset.

“I want you to look at these points, Jonas.  Really _look_.”

Jonas nodded, his mind processing the thoughts laid bare in front of him.

“Now I want you to tell me… can you change any of these things?  Without causing either you or Isak mental or physical harm?”

“Well, he’s working on the whole… passivity thing.  In his own therapy sessions.  So that could change over time?”

“Yes, but can _you_ change it?”

“No.  I mean… I can support him with it, can’t I?  I can encourage him and if he needs help with the exercises his therapist is setting him, I can be there if he needs me.  But apart from that, no,  I can’t do anything unless he asks.”

“Are you sure?”

“I…” Jonas felt himself growing frustrated.  “I don’t know, I’m not a fucking therapist!  I mean, I could tell him when he’s acting a certain way… I can tell him to stop it, that it’s okay for him to get angry, to scream and lash out.”  

He remembered, then, that Isak had done exactly that in the hospital after Jonas had tried to push him away with hurtful words.  He remembered the way Isak had flipped the tray and launched himself at Even in the days after Even had broken up with him.  Maybe Isak _did_ have the capacity to become angry, and Jonas simply hadn’t noticed.  

“I suppose I can just... be there for him, if I need to be.  I can check he’s okay, and I can help him if he asks for it,” he concluded.

“Could you apply that same rule to the rest of the list?”

Jonas read it through again and nodded.

“One thing I’ve always found about human nature is that we can rarely change the actions of others, and that when we do, we inevitably need to use destructive methods to do so.  People like Elias are able to impose their will on others for a time, but it is a constant battle: the moment they let it drop, the autonomy of their victim starts to shine through again.  In order for you to change these things that frustrate you about Isak, you will enter into territory that you are working so hard to distance yourself from.”

“So how can I change that?  How can I stop… becoming frustrated by these things?”

“There is no simple answer, Jonas.  But if I _was_ to simplify this, I would tell you to introduce new experiences with Isak - positive experiences - to combat your frustrations. You introduce new people into your life, new activities, new subjects to talk about; you keep going forward, embracing what life has to offer.  And then when you do inevitably need to return to the past, once in awhile, you’ll do so with new coping mechanisms in place.”

“So you’re saying that I made the right decision, transferring schools?”

“Perhaps, yes,” Daniel said, before his voice took on a warning tone.  “But it won’t be a miraculous fix-all.  You will have to work on developing these positive experiences for a long time, until you break the pattern of self-destruction you have created in your head.”

“Well,” Jonas said, smiling for what felt like the first time since he’d started therapy.  “That’s what I’ve got you for, right?”

Daniel smiled right back at him.  “No, Jonas.  That’s what you’ve got _you_ for.”

 

***

 

He met Magnus at daybreak the following morning and they fastidiously worked their way around every locker in the school, attaching the printouts of the screenshots.  They stuck posters up with the obscene images Anders had sent Isak, and the obscene words he’d used in order to break Isak down, little by little.  Beside them they’d printed their thoughts on Anders, and their thoughts on the size of his appendage.  It was a childish victory, but they knew it would hit the third year where it hurt.

Teachers came and tried to rip them down; they heard their frantic voices discussing it as students began to filter in for the start of the school day.  Magnus and Jonas hid themselves, clutching at the thick wad of papers, and waiting for the staff to pass through.

When the coast was clear, they handed even more out to the incoming students.  They’d printed hundreds in the reprographics department of the school when the member of staff manning it had crept out for a cigarette break.  

When Isak rushed over, a panicked expression on his face, Jonas said to him, “Enjoy it, Isak.  That creep deserves everything he gets.”  And he saw Isak’s face change; he saw the understanding on it, the small smile, as he grabbed some posters from Jonas and helped to distribute them.

Eventually, Anders found them, his expression vengeful; he lunged at Isak, the word ‘slut’ on his lips, and then the head teacher seemed to appear from nowhere, her expression matching Anders’ in the extent of its fury.

“Anders Silvertsen, get in my office _now_ ,” she told him.  

Anders gawped at her.  “These are the ones spreading this around,” he said, gesturing at the three of them and then pointing at Jonas.  “This one here… he’s the one you should be fucking yelling at!  You should suspend him!  He did this.”

“Do _not_ swear at me.  Get in my office at once.”

The third year boy looked at the three of them and shook his head.  “You _wait_ ,” he told Jonas.  Jonas blew him a kiss.

“This school has a zero tolerance policy to sexual harassment, and I emailed her pictures of every single text you sent Isak.  Enjoy your extended break, pencil dick.”

They watched Anders following the headteacher into her office, his mouth wide open in shock, and they looked around to see students reading through the texts and shrieking.  Jonas had removed Isak’s name, on the few occasions Anders had used it (seeing as he favoured ‘slut’ and ‘whore’ to describe Isak) and now he loked at him and saw he was enjoying this moment.  They grinned at each other and basked in the success of their actions.

Eventually, Even, Mahdi, Eva and Vilde joined them.  Vilde was close to having an aneurysm when she marched over.  “Jonas, Magnus!  People are saying this was _you_ who gave out these posters?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Magnus said.  His smile faltered slightly when he saw Eva reach for Vilde’s hand to calm her down.

“I hope this doesn’t affect our Russ standing, next year,” Vilde fretted.  A few of them groaned.

“Vilde, this is going to go down in fucking history,” Mahdi told her.  He looked at Jonas with a slightly embarrassed expression on his face when he realised he’d paid him a compliment.  “Um… good job, man.”

“Well, it’s okay for him,” Vilde said petulantly, “He won’t be here for the aftermath.”

“Sure I will,” Jonas said.  “You can tell me all about it at your lame Kosegruppe parties while I’m trying to distract myself from the alcohol I can no longer drink.”

Mahdi blinked at him, addressing him for the second time.  “Seriously?”

“Seriously.  Turns out you can’t try and drink yourself to death without there being a tiny bit of liver damage.”

“Wow,” Magnus said.  “That sucks, man.”

“I know.  Now I’ve actually got to _listen_ to the shit you guys say when you’re drunk and stoned.”

They all pretended to be outraged at that.  “You talked the _biggest_ shit when you were stoned,” Eva reminded him.  “Nobody else can clear a room as quickly as you when you decide to start ranting about politics.”

“You mean I should keep politics out of it when I try to make new friends?”

He looked at Isak who rolled his eyes up innocently to the ceiling.

“Damn, you guys, I thought that was kind of what I was known for?”

“That’s _not_ what you want to be known for.  Stick to your strengths,” Eva advised him.

“And they are?”

“Eating girls out.”

They all laughed at that - well, almost all.  Vilde looked scandalised, and Even hovered uncomfortably, clealry not wanting to involve himself in a conversation where Jonas was the topic.  And Jonas couldn’t really blame him for that.  He decided that maybe it was time to leave, now.  It felt like it wouldn’t get any better than this.

He hugged Eva and Vilde, and then Magnus pulled him in for a bear hug.  When he got to Mahdi he extended a wary hand, and Mahdi nodded and shook it with a small smile.  “Good luck,” he told Jonas.  

When he got to Isak, he remembered something, and rooted through his rucksack for the red snapback he’d kept for all this time.  He handed it to Isak who looked at him in confusion.

“This was yours?”

“Was it?”

“I think so?”

Even rolled his eyes and took it off Jonas.  “It suits Isak better,” he said.  Jonas shrugged, unable to disagree with that.

He looked at Isak, and Isak blinked away tears.

“Fucking hell, man, I’m not dying.”

“I know.”  Isak nodded, trying to look okay with this, and Jonas sighed.  Isak pointed at Eva.  “She’s crying, too.”

Jonas felt himself well up when he turned to see Eva swiping her index fingers carefully under the bottoms of her eyes, trying not to smudge her eyeliner.

“Codependent little bitches,” he said to her and Isak, and they tried to laugh.  “I am literally going to a new school about three miles away.  I’m still going to see you all the time.”  He reached out before he could stop himself and wiped some tears from Isak’s cheekbone.  He pulled back when he saw Even biting his tongue, and said, “Let’s meet up for pizza next week, okay?  Everyone.”

Isak nodded at him and there were a few murmurs of agreement.

Jonas walked away from the group while he was still able to.  As he passed through corridors on the way to the exit, he threw the remaining printouts he was holding up into the air.  They scattered down around him and he trod them underfoot as he walked out of the school for the last time.

 

**

 

He started at Bakka the following Monday and found it even more difficult than he’d been expecting.  He didn’t understand the behaviour that students engaged in here, he didn’t understand the in-jokes or the social groups or where he was meant to position himself within it.

For the first few days he was relentlessly miserable.  When he met up with the Nissen group (they were already ‘the Nissen group’ in his head) he tried to put on a brave face, not wanting them to see he was regretting this.  His resolve felt so weak, that if Isak or Eva told him to come back, that he was being stupid, he probably would have done it.

Things turned a corner in the second week.  He was approached by a stoner who he’d seen a few times down the skatepark.  He nodded in recognition and the boy smiled at him, flicking long greasy hair away from his face.

“Weird seeing you here, man.”

“Yeah, well… I transferred.”

“I figured that.  Apparently you got a third year expelled and needed to like, go on the run from him?  Is that right?”

Jonas’s mouth twitched.  “Not _quite_ right.”

“I don’t see you down at the ramps these days.”

“I…” He sighed.  “I went through some stuff and I kind of lost interest in it.  There was too much going on in my head.”

The boy looked at him incredulously.  “Sure, but skating is… you know? The _answer_ to that.  When you’re sick of all the shit life has thrown with you, just fucking _skate_ , man.”  He started to walk away and then looked turned back and smile.  “Maybe if I see you there tonight, I’ll even let your douchey hipster Nissen arse sit with us tomorrow lunch time.”

Jonas’s mouth dropped open slightly and he raised an eyebrow.  Was this kid serious? Was he actually being socially blackmailed into taking up skateboarding again?

“Okay,” he said, deciding to bite because… well, why not?  What did he have to lose at this point?  “But I’ll be shit.”

“That’s okay.  I’ll yell at you until you get better.”

Jonas fixed him with a challenging expression and the boy smiled.

“I’m Ronan, by the way.”

“Jonas.”

“My friend’s got a crush on you.  She’s hot.  She kind of asked me to get you down to the skatepark tonight.  So, thank her for this.”

Jonas tried not to look too bemused by that.  Nobody had ‘crushed’ on him since he’d entered into the dark period of his life that he felt in many ways at though he was still embroiled in.  Surely anybody could see, just by looking at him, that he was fundamentally broken?

He smiled weakly and shrugged and Ronan grinned at him before leaving.

 

***

 

The next few weeks became more tolerable.  He’d expected Ronan’s ‘squad’ to be a small gaggle of stoners and skaters with whom he now had little in common, but actually they weren’t so different to his friends at Nissen: there was an even mix of boys and girls, and they were opinionated and raucous and funny and welcomed him in like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

And Ronan was right.  The girl who had a crush on him (and she was very open in telling him this herself) _was_ hot; her name was Astrid, which was an automatic sign to Jonas that it wasn’t meant to be, because _ew_ , he couldn’t fuck someone with the same name as his little sister.  But she was nice, and uncomplicated, and they kissed a few times at the skatepark.  Sometimes he even convinced himself that he was basically a normal, functioning teenage boy at this point.

His new friends would ask him about why he left, about his friends at Nissen - a few of them even knew Magnus, who had a cousin at Bakka and therefore had been to a few parties - but mostly he tried to keep his reasons for leaving to the vague necessities.  Maybe a month ago he’d have punished himself by telling them every last detail, in order for them to push him away, but now he thought about Daniel’s words, about people needing people, and he found he was actually starting to act on them.  It felt… revelatory.

 

***

 

Elias’s court case approached rapidly, before Jonas was even really able to process its arrival in his head, and Isak invited him round one day to a ‘court verdict party’; which was to be nothing like a party at all, simply a chance for Isak to be surrounded by people who cared about him when the verdict came out.

Jonas was dreading it.  But then, so was everyone else, he was sure.  In the run-up to it, he found himself craving something to take the edge off like nothing before.  At the skatepark one day, Ronan lit up a joint next to him and he could taste it, could just imagine how good it would feel curling inside of him, and then Ronan looked at him, saw the hungry expression on his face, and shook his head.

“Not for you, man.”

Jonas looked at him quizzically.

“You told me you don’t do them, remember? So I’m not going to enable you.”

“You’re just going to sit there and smoke it right next to me instead,” Jonas grumbled.  But he was glad, to be honest.  At least Ronan was looking out for him.

Still, his nerves didn’t diminish as the day approached.  The trial started on the Monday, the sentencing was due for Thursday.  Thursday came and went; they needed to examine more evidence, apparently.  And then Isak texted him Friday morning.

 

_I: Its today. Around lunch time hopefully.  We’re going to cut school and wait at mine, they’ll call me when they know.  Do you want to come?_

_I: It’s fine if not x_

 

_J: I’ll be there x_

 

***

 

When he arrived, Eskild opened the door, his face hardening when he saw Jonas.  “Isak _did_ invite me,” Jonas said quietly, and Eskild eventually sighed.

“I know.  And I know you’ve been seeking help for your problems.  I just…” He trailed off, and Jonas nodded in understanding.  Because he _did_ understand.  He understood that Eskild had no real reason to accept him; he had no history with him, no familiarity from seeing him on a regular basis.  All Jonas was to Eskild was some junkie creep who had taken advantage of Eskild’s innocent young housemate and overdosed in the same bedroom.

Jonas had nothing to give him except for his honesty, so he tried that.

“Okay, so. The last time you saw me I was confessing to some awful things.  I scared Isak and I made it about myself and I know that you feel weird about me being here.  Like I said, Isak invited me, and I want to be there for him.  I don’t have to stay if you feel I shouldn’t, though.  You care about Isak just as much as me, and I’m not here to make a scene.”

Eskild pursed his lips as he stared at Jonas, trying to figure him out.  “I suppose if Isak wants you here, the decision is his to make,” he said grudgingly.

They walked through to the living room.  Even and Isak were sat together on the sofa, Isak’s feet resting on Even’s lap.  They were talking to Eva who was sat opposite them.  Isak looked up and smiled at him, but Jonas only needed to glance at him to see how nervous he was.  He took his place on the armchair as Vilde came through from the kitchen, setting mugs of hot drinks down on the coffee table before curling in next to Eva.

“Do you want to snuggle as well, Eskild?” Jonas asked, and Eskild looked at him with a sour expression on his face, only pulling his mouth into a grudging smile when Isak and Eva laughed brightly.

Jonas went through to the kitchen to make his own coffee.  When he came back, Isak was on the phone to someone; he had a soft expression on his face and Jonas knew it wasn’t anyone from the court.

Isak ended the call and said, “That was Chris.  He’s coming round soon.”

“Wonderful,” Vilde said under her breath.  Eva caught her hand and mouthed ‘it’s okay’ at her.  Vilde smiled nervously.

They sat around drinking coffee and making small talk as Isak stared studiously at his phone.  When the doorbell rang, they all jumped from the noise, and Eskild stood up immediately and headed out to answer it, happy to keep himself busy.

“What time did they tell you?” Jonas asked, and Isak shrugged.  “They just said it would be around lunchtime, maybe a bit later.”

Jonas looked at his watch.  It was approaching 1.30pm.  “Late lunch,” he muttered.

Eskild brought Chris through to the living room; Eva stood up first to hug him, and then Isak looked at him, managing a nervous smile, and followed her lead.  Jonas watched the older boy’s hands gripping Isak’s waist, pulling him close; he checked Even’s reaction and was somewhat comforted to see that Even’s jealousy didn’t _just_ extend to Jonas.

“How was it?” Isak asked when they were all sat down.  “You went in Tuesday, right?”

Chris nodded.  “It was… weird.  It didn’t take anywhere near as long as I thought.”

“What did they ask you?” Eva questioned.

“Just stuff around how I knew Isak, whether I’d met Elias before, if this was the first time I’d seen them together.  ‘ _Etcetera Etcetera_ ’  And then they talked to me about what I actually saw.  They were pretty nice to me, even the defence.  He didn’t seem to be able to say that much.  Ida had made a witness statement too, which backed it all up.”

“Did you see Elias?” Isak asked quietly.  Chris nodded.

“Yeah.”

“How did he… you know… how did he seem?”

“He didn’t really seem like anything.  He just sat there with this vacant expression on his face.  Obviously I wasn’t staring at him the whole time, but every time I did he was just… not reacting to anything.”

“Thank you again for this,” Isak said.  “You didn’t have to.”

Chris looked at him and smiled fondly.  “You know that isn’t true.”

Again they fell into silence.  Vilde and Eskild went off to make more coffee and Jonas felt himself faltering, wondering what would happen if Elias wasn’t found guilty.  Would it all start again?  Would Isak go back to square one, knowing that Elias was out there and capable of hurting him again?  He hated even considering it.

Chris cleared his throat and looked at Eva.  “So you and blondie, huh?” He pointed out the door, indicating to where Vilde had just disappeared through.  “Is it official?”

“Chris -” Eva started.  Chris shook his head.

“I’m not… you don’t need to explain yourself.”

“She makes me happy,” Eva said simply.  “And I’ve decided that life is too fucked up to _not_ accept happiness when you find it somewhere.”

“Does Magnus know?” Jonas asked, suddenly realising he had no idea whether his friend had been heartbroken by this turn of events.  The whole Eva and Vilde thing had crept up on him so suddenly that he was honestly a bit weirded out to acknowledge it was even happening.

“Yeah,” Eva said.  “Vilde broke it to him gently.  Very gently.”

“He still thinks he’s going to get a threesome,” Isak said.  “So he took it better than you’d expect.”

“Problematic straight guys,” Eva said.  “What can you do?”

Jonas thought about this for a moment and then laughed.

“Who’d have thought that all three of us - you, me and Isak - would have turned out so... _non-hetero_?”

“The three LGBT musketeers,” Eva said, smiling, as Isak laughed, clearly grateful for the relief.  Even managed a smile as well, which was pretty much all he _had_ done since Jonas had entered the room almost two hours ago.  Jonas got it, though.  He was trying to be strong for Isak, and if he lost his composure, he would crumble.  Jonas understood the feeling well.

They drank more coffee and waited in silence for another half hour or so.  Chris started to pace, frustrated, and Eskild wondered out loud to nobody in particular if he should maybe give the court a ring and see what was happening.

And then Isak’s phone rang.

They all looked at it dumbly, the vibrations rattling against the table.  Isak looked around at his friends, at Even, and then he took a deep breath and picked it up.  He pressed receive.

Jonas blocked the words out, knowing that Isak’s tone wasn’t necessarily indicative of what he was being told.  He felt his heart pounding and he gripped the edge of the chair, resting his head against the arm.

“Thank you,” Isak said finally, and hung up.

They all waited, looking at him, and Isak blinked again.

“Guilty on all charges.  Possessing and filming child pornography, malicious communications… attempted sexual assault, and…” Isak paused, his voice quavering with emotion, “and rape.”  He brought a shaking hand up to his face and rubbed it over his mouth, shaking his head mechanically as if he was trying to wake himself up.

“Did they say how long he’d get?” Eskild asked gently.  Isak shook his head.

“He still has another hearing, for the drug possession.  But she said it was likely to be a fairly lengthy jail sentence with everything combined.”

They all took this in, their silence one of shock and relief, and then Isak laughed; a disbelieving, almost hysterical noise that made Even pull him close.

“It’s actually over,” Isak said.  “It’s really over.”

He buried his head in Even’s chest and began to sob, his narrow shoulders rising and falling, and Jonas looked around to see Eva and Vilde holding each other, Chris pressed against the wall looking exhausted but relieved, Eskild squeezing Eva’s shoulder.

None of them had let this thing beat them, and it struck him that their resilience - not just Isak’s, but everyone who had been affected by this - was a far more powerful sentence for Elias than anything the judge would come up with now.

 

***

 

A short time later, Eskild brought out some alcohol for everyone, and they all gratefully received it in order to take the edge off the events of the afternoon.  Everyone except for Jonas, of course, who stared at the vodka contemplatively and realised he didn’t actually need it.  Not in that moment, anyway.  He had no doubt that times would come when he instinctively felt himself yearning for the oblivion of drunkenness, but today he simply felt happy to be there.

Eva and Vilde were the first to leave, their fingers entwined as they said goodbye, and then Eskild went off to get ready before heading out for the night.

Jonas wondered if it was time to go as well.  He looked across at Even and Isak, smiling fondly when he realised Isak was asleep, his head in Even’s lap, his hands bunched into the older boy’s hoodie.

Chris cleared his throat, sitting down on the sofa opposite.  He had been waiting for something, Jonas realised.  He saw him now, staring across at Even with a hardened expression on his face.

“You know he told me about the fact that you left him, right?  After Elias tried to rape him again?”

Even’s face dropped slightly and he shook his head.

“Well, he did.  When he called me up to talk about Elias, we spoke about… loads, really.  About how you hurt Elias, how you weren’t going to testify because of what you did that night.  And about the fact that you _dumped_ him when he needed you.  Though of course he didn’t say it like that.”

“I’m not proud of myself,” Even said quietly.  He looked at Jonas with a meaningful expression.  “But _I_ never deliberately set out to hurt him.”

Chris laughed at that, his voice still quiet, trying not to wake Isak up.  Even looked at him with a slightly puzzled expression on his face.

“Don’t do that.  Don’t excuse your own actions because that guy over there fucked up worse.”

Jonas stared at the floor, wondering if he was a part of this conversation.

“From what I can tell, Jonas is trying to work on what he did.  Which is good, because he’s a fucking dick, and he needs all the help he can get.”

“Thanks, Chris,” Jonas mumbled.

Chris ignored him.  “Even, I’m not sure _anyone_ has told you the truth: that you did the shittiest thing it was possible to do to someone like Isak; you abandoned him when he needed you the most.”

“I had my reasons,” Even said heatedly, trying to keep his voice down as Isak stirred slightly on his lap.  

Chris lowered his voice even further.  “Reasons?  Seriously?  Your reasons don’t mean shit to me.  I’m _telling_ you, Even; you need to understand that Isak comes first.  If I _ever_ hear that you’ve done something like this to him again, that you’ve left him when he needs you, because you decided what was _best_ for him, I will find out about it and we’ll discuss your _reasons_ in a very non-diplomatic way.  Got it?”

Even looked at Chris in contrition, and nodded.  Jonas coughed, before saying, “Awkward,” in a high pitched expression; he knew Chris would still remember the moment he’d tackled him on the stairs, and sure enough Chris looked at him with a slight grin on his face before adjusting his expression and rolling his eyes.

“I don’t even need to tell _you_ what I’ll do to you if you fuck up with Isak again,” Chris warned him.

Jonas nodded.  He knew.

“Anyway, it was good to have this discussion,” Chris said, standing up and pulling on his jacket.  “Remember, boys: best behaviour.”

He left, and the three of them remained.  Isak was still fast asleep and they both stared at him for a moment before Jonas realised this wasn’t his moment with Isak.  He stood up and looked at Even, and Even looked at him.

“We’ve all made mistakes,” Even said.  He was humbled from Chris’s ‘motivational’ speech and Jonas saw that the words had genuinely resonated with him.  “Maybe now, we can start to get it right.”  He looked closely at Jonas and said grudgingly, “Maybe we’ve already started.”

It wasn’t an acknowledgement of friendship; it wasn’t even an extension of the metaphorical olive branch, not really.  But it was a statement that gave Jonas hope, regardless.  He nodded at Even, and Even nodded back, and that was enough for now.

In his sleep, Isak made a small, contemplative noise.  Even looked down at his boyfriend with the softest expression Jonas had ever seen - even softer than Isak at his most vulnerable - and stroked his hands through Isak’s hair.  Jonas turned his head away, not because it hurt, really, but because it wasn’t his to watch.

He set off back home, his heart light and and his feet grounded.

 

***

 

Jonas dreamt that night, but the dream was a memory, and it was a good one.  He and Isak were fifteen, and they were heading down from Akershus Castle to the docks, and the sun had just gone down over Oslo.  They were high or drunk, or both, it didn’t matter.  Their foreheads touched as they tried to steady each other when they got too close to the edge of the water.

“I think I’m going to leave Ingrid for Eva,” Jonas told Isak when they’d settled down at the side of the docks, sitting and watching the water lap near their feet.

“Eva’s much nicer than Ingrid,” Isak said.  Then he added quietly, the hint of a joke in his voice, “I’m nicer than both of them, though.”

Jonas laughed, falling back into Isak’s lap.  “You’d be my ideal partner if you weren’t so…”

“Masculine?”

“Blonde,” Jonas said.  Isak whacked him and Jonas laughed into his chest.

“That’s awesome, though.  Eva loves you, I can tell.”

“Yeah,” Jonas said, feeling happy as Isak said it.  “I think I love her too.”

They fell into silence and the moment became awkward, because there was too much going on in Jonas’s head.  He jumped up to his feet and began to remove his jacket.  “I want to swim.”

“What?!  No!” Isak said, jumping up after him.  He pulled Jonas away, as Jonas tried to wrestle with him.

“Why not?  Give me one good reason why?”

“Um… let me think… because you’ll freeze to death?!”

“It’s almost summer!”

“That water is still freezing!”

Jonas sighed, and pretended to give in, and then lunged towards the water’s edge as soon as Isak had allowed himself to relax.

“Jonas, stop,” Isak said, at once laughing and genuinely terrified.  He pushed Jonas down to the ground and fell on top of him with a groan of pain.  “I’m not fucking moving until you behave yourself, arsehole!”

As he dreamt, Jonas realised he’d known in that moment.  He’d always kind of known, but when he saw Isak staring at him, his eyes wide with concern, he knew for sure.

He slumped his head back to the floor and pulled Isak on top of him properly.  The night air swirled around them; the sound of the water lapping in the docks and the gentle hum of traffic, and their breath, gentle and unsynchronised, still laughing slightly at the absurdity of Jonas’s actions.

Sometimes, bad memories replaced good ones.  Jonas thought about that as he woke up from that dream, that memory.  He had tried to end his life in the same place he had fallen in love with Isak for the first time.  He tried to understand what had driven him to do so; why he had chosen that specific place to die.

Maybe in this case, his mind had protected him.  It had given him back a good memory that he had pushed away, which in turn pushed away the ugliness of his suicide attempt.

His attitude, reshaped and refreshed, urged him ever forward, urged him to create new memories, to not let any memory define who he was.  But maybe it was also time to accept that all of those memories came with him.  The good, the bad and the really fucking ugly ones.

They all belonged to him, even the ones he had buried deep in the cracks of his mind.  And if those bloomed into lucid thoughts tomorrow, he would welcome them, he would reflect on them, and he would move forward until they could no longer poison the ground on which he walked.


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... here it is. I could never have imagined the response I received when I started writing this angsty beast of a fanfic. It's easily been the most emotional thing I've ever written because, without wanting to say too much, I've put so much of myself into these characters. But I've loved every minute of writing, even when I've been cursing myself for embarking on this journey!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your amazing and passionate (and amazingly passionate!) comments, which have always got me through the difficult parts of writing this. I hope that now the story is complete, you're satisfied with the overall arc of the fic. I know at times this has been difficult to read as characters have made bad decisions and had even worse things happen to them, but I've always said I wanted to get them to a point where they're happy, and hopefully this timejump reflects that without becoming too cliched!
> 
> Please let me know your feelings now the fic has finished! I really would love to read your final comments. <333
> 
> I'll be back soon with more fic, and though I should probably take a break from the angst, like Jonas I'm a sucker for pain. So, we'll see what comes next. :P

**December 2017**

 

The roads in the small town leading up to the cabin were thick with ice and mainly unsalted.  The last part of the journey, which should have taken no more than twenty minutes in the car, stretched out for over an hour.

Upon arrival, the dominant feeling was one of relief, despite the reality settling over a few of them of what the cabin represented.  They were here, though, and they had their reasons for being here.  Good reasons.  Important reasons.

Jonas stepped out of the car - _his_ car, a present from his parents for his ‘six months sober’ anniversary, which had also marked the end of his therapy with Daniel - and shut the door behind him.  Eva and Vilde climbed out from the back, Magnus from the passenger seat, and then Mahdi, who had fallen asleep during the last part of the journey, emerged as well.

From Even’s car, Isak, Even, Noora, Sana and Chris - female Chris - emptied out.  Jonas watched Isak’s reaction closely but saw nothing obviously fearful in his eyes; in fact the only thing Jonas could deduce was a slight haze from the car journey, which the blonde boy rubbed away with the front of his hand.

“Okay?” Eva asked him quietly.  Jonas looked at her and nodded decisively.

“Fine.”

It had been Eva’s idea to come here.  One evening, a couple of months ago, Jonas, Eva and Isak had ended up on their own after a party, clearing up and talking about Even.  He and Isak had been ‘off’ at the time, and Isak suddenly blurted out why, his voice quavering slightly.

“I told him about how… how I used to just go along with sex with him.  How I would sometimes block out what was happening because I was scared. He was _horrified_.  And I knew he would be, which was why I hadn’t ever told him.  And so we had an argument about it.”

“Shit,” Eva said.  “That’s…”

“Shit,” Isak agreed.  “Yeah.”

“How did you even start talking about it?” Jonas asked.  “I mean… it’s not still a thing, is it?”  His stomach curled with dread as he anticipated the answer.

“No.  No, it’s not.  My therapy has really helped with that.  If it was another guy, maybe it would be an issue, but it’s always been better with Even, and recently it’s been… _the_ best.”  He sighed.  “It’s because I had a nightmare, that’s all.  I woke up crying and he was worried about me.  We started talking and it just sort of… all came out.”

“A nightmare?” Eva asked.  “What about?”

“The cabin.  It’s always about the cabin.”

Jonas’s skin had prickled at that.  “Yeah, same, man.”

Isak looked at him with a ghost of a smile on his face.  “It isn’t just me?”

“I do too, sometimes,” Eva admitted.  “Since Jonas told me what had happened there.  Fuck, I thought...”  She trailed off, the words hanging in the air.   _I’d thought I’d been alone_.  Apparently, none of them had been.

They had stopped cleaning up at this point: they all stood in different areas of Eva’s living room, united suddenly in this revelation.

“Fuck that place,” Isak said, breaking the silence.  “Fuck Elias for ruining such a nice place.”

Eva looked at him, and then at Jonas, her eyebrows raised.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” she’d told them.  “We could take it back.  Make it ours again.  Not his.”

And so they’d done just that.  They had arranged this - a two night pre-Christmas break with the Kosegruppe (plus Jonas) - and even when their confidence had faltered, they’d talked to each other about it, about the nightmares, until they’d decided it was a good idea again.

Jonas still thought it was a good idea, but that wouldn’t stop him worrying until the weekend was over.

He watched as Isak stretched, and Even came up from behind to pull him into his chest in a warm embrace, his arms around Isak’s waist as Isak covered them with his own.  

Jonas looked down and saw a text on his phone from Ronan asking if he’d arrived yet. He smiled.

 _I’m here_ , he texted back.   _Talk later x_

“Let’s do this,” Eva said, once they’d finished unloading the contents from the boots of the cars.

It was freezing inside.  The others began to complain as soon as they’d stepped foot through the door.  Eva grumbled at them to stop whining as she went through to the boiler room to turn on the heating.  They kept themselves busy by unloading the Christmas decorations that would only get a couple of night’s use and bringing through the groceries to start on lunch.

“Eva,” Sana said at one point, her voice laced with steel.  “Where are the rest of the bedrooms?”

Eva looked at her and smiled.

“Sana,” she said, her own tone flinty with warning, “We’re young and full of energy.  We haven’t come here to _sleep_.”  She smiled.  “But you can have the main bedroom if you want it.  None of the guys are sleeping in there, I promise.”

“What about the other one?” Sana asked.

“The other one is off limits.  It gets too cold,” she said smoothly.

Jonas had been looking at Isak during this conversation, and had seen his eyes widen and flit around the room with anxiety.  But Eva’s words seemed to calm him.  Jonas had been worried about how much they would have to tell Isak’s extended group of friends about why they were coming; the specific reasons behind it.  He was grateful to Eva for having anticipated any awkward questioning.

Sana narrowed her eyes in displeasure but after glancing at Isak for a moment, she nodded and walked away.

“Thanks,” Isak told Eva, who looked at him with concern.

“You will tell us if any of it gets too much, right?”

He nodded.  “Can I help, Eva?  With lunch?”

From the other side of the room, Even finished helping Mahdi position the Christmas tree in the corner near the fireplace and then walked over to them.  Eva was directing Isak to peel some potatoes as Even drew near and kissed his cheek.

“Still feeling okay about this?” he asked.  “We can go any time you like.”  

Isak nodded, turned to face him, and kissed him on the lips.  “I’m okay.”

The four of them prepared lunch while the others started to decorate the tree.  Jonas watched, his face twitching with amusement, as Magnus and Mahdi tried to wrap the fairy lights around it in a vaguely symmetrical manner.  Vilde was shaking her head at them, becoming more and more agitated.

“She looked at Pinterest before she came, right?” Even asked, laughing with amusement.  Eva groaned.

“148 goddamn pins for Christmas lighting options.  I made her count them.”

“Who knew the most extra girl in the world would be so extra about Christmas,” Jonas said sarcastically.  Eva punched his arm and he laughed.  “Ouch!”

“That _extra_ girl is my extra _girlfriend_ , thank you very much.”

“Your extra girlfriend?  Is one not enough?”

“Finish boiling that water, wiseguy,” Eva told him.  “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about _your_ new partner.”

“You can say boyfriend, Eva,” Jonas told her.  “Seeing as we’re using words like that in front of each other now.”

“Ronan,” Eva said, her smile increasing as she chopped onions efficiently.  “So cute.”

“Stop fetishising gay slash bisexual slash pansexual men, Eva.”

“You covered all bases there,” Isak laughed, impressed.  “You’re actually claiming _all_ the sexualities.”

“Sexuality is a construct,” Jonas said.  Even nodded at that.

“Sexuality _is_ a construct.”

“ _Y_ _ou’re_ a construct,” Isak told Even poutily.

They finished preparing the food and carried the plates through to the living area where Magnus and Mahdi had decided a break was in order. They were currently watching the four girls decorate the room with wary expressions on their faces, apparently frightened of Vilde yelling at them again.

Jonas hadn’t looked at the sofa yet where he’d left Isak, on both nights.  He’d avoided looking at that area altogether, but now he was confronted with it and his eyes travelled over instinctively.  Isak had always favoured the same spot.  It was empty now, but then Isak pulled Even over to it and curled up next to him with his lunch on his lap.

Jonas had thought he’d be okay with this, but something twisted within his chest when he saw Isak sit there, and he pulled back, heading into the kitchen again where he put his plate on the table.  He walked out of the back door, back into the freezing cold air, and took several deep breaths.

_It was okay.  Isak was okay._

He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and he took it out to see Ronan was calling him.  He answered it with a croaky voice.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Ronan said.  “I got bored of waiting for you to ring.”

“I was helping make lunch.  We’d been in the car all morning so everyone was starving.”

“Was the ride up okay?”

“Sure.  Vilde had organised travel games.”

“Travel games?”

“Literally, every conceivable game you could think of.  She’d even downloaded this music thing on her phone where we had to, like, guess the artist and the year.”

“Damn, she’s efficient,” Ronan said, laughing.  There was a slight pause.  “I kind of wish I was there now.”

“I _did_ tell you to come.”

“I know, but…” Ronan trailed off and Jonas hummed in agreement.  He knew.  He’d told Ronan about Isak, about the history between Isak and Jonas, and what Isak had been through, why they were doing this; they’d agreed it was best for him not to get wrapped up in it.  The weekend was going to be difficult enough for everyone without Jonas worrying about how Ronan was going to respond to his potentially erratic moods. 

Still, as Ronan talked to him, he began to feel calmer and steadier.  The laidback, soothing drawl to his boyfriend’s voice made parts of Jonas relax which he hadn’t even realised were tense.  He wished he’d persuaded him to come.

He told himself it was going to be okay.  Nobody here would hurt Isak.  Nobody here would leave him if he needed them.   They were going to get through this.

“Astrid says hey,” Ronan told him, as Jonas strained to hear laughter on the other end of the line.  “She wants to know when Magnus is going to, and I quote, ‘Return the favour and send nudes’?”

“I’ll hassle him in a bit.”

“Okay,” Ronan said, a smile in his voice, before his tone turned serious.  “Good luck, okay?”

“Thanks.”

“And… tell Isak the same thing, as well.  Tell him I’m thinking about you both.”

“I really lucked out with you,” Jonas told him before he could talk himself out of sounding like a cliche.  Ronan chuckled.

“Fuck yeah, you did, Nissen.”

 

***

 

They braved the freezing temperatures after lunch to walk down to the beach, bundled up in so many layers they could barely move.  Thanks to Sana’s surprisingly adept survival skills, they  gathered enough wood to have a campfire burning within twenty minutes.  After that they sat around, shivering until it began to warm them through, looking out to the water.

“Are you going to play something?” Isak asked Jonas.  He’d made Jonas bring his guitar, so of _course_ he was expecting a song, but Jonas groaned in response.  His hands felt too warm inside his thick gloves to expose them to the air.

“Noora is better than me,” he said, deflecting, and Noora rolled her eyes.

“Pass it here.”

She hooked off her gloves with her teeth and then began to strum a few chords.

“Any requests?”

“Justin Bieber!” Magnus shouted.  Noora smiled at him and sang the first verse and chorus of _Love Yourself_.  Some of the group sang along with her, their voices echoing along the beach as the sun began to set over the water.  Jonas glanced round to see Isak leaning back into Even’s chest, as Even playfully mouthed the words into his ear and Isak rolled his eyes.

He looked back out to the water, the familiar pull still there when he saw them happy like that: he didn’t think it would ever leave, not really, but at least it no longer spurred him into actions that he hated himself for.

Eva came to sit next to him, and rested her head against his shoulder for a while.

“This is nice.”

“It’s cold,” he complained.  She looked at him incredulously and he rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, okay.  It’s nice and it’s cold.”

“Did you talk to Ronan?”

“Yes.”

“And everything’s good?”

He looked at her and smiled.  She beamed back at him.

“He looks really cute now he’s started washing his hair.  You did good, Jonas.”

“What can I say?  He reintroduced me to skating, I introduced him to shampoo and conditioner.”  He sighed.  “Seriously, though, it’s still early days, Eva.  We’re really just trying to work out what a relationship is meant to look like at the moment.  This whole _dating a guy_ thing is pretty new for the both of us.”

Across from them, Chris began to hand out paper cups filled with something suspicious looking from a flask.  He watched as Isak and Even reached out for cups, and Vilde, and Magnus and Mahdi.  She came across to Eva and Jonas and smiled.

“This one is just for you,” she told Jonas, giving him a hip flask of his own.  “ _Special recipe_ ,” she said in English.  “No bad stuff.”

She gave Eva a cup filled with brown liquid and went back to sit next to Sana. Jonas took a swig from the hip flask and smiled.  Orange juice.  It was literally orange juice.  Still, he was lucky.  His friends had made it their personal mission to not let him fall from the all-too-precarious mantle of sobriety.  And Ronan had held him through some of the worst nights of his life, when all he’d wanted was to swallow pills and down vodka and be back at the docks, looking up into the black, starless sky.

Here, without the light pollution of the city, the stars were like a galaxy above them.  He drank the orange juice and looked up, and Eva squeezed his hand before walking back to Vilde.  He looked over to see them cuddling each other, as Eva pushed Vilde’s long hair away from her red cheeks and kissed each one gently.  

She’d told Jonas, a couple of months ago, that around the time of the trial, Vilde had got her through the darkest period of her life; that every day, Eva had blamed herself for what happened to Isak at the cabin, and that Vilde had kissed away each and every one of her fears.  

“She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met,” she’d told Jonas. He’d replied, “Why the fuck is she going out with you, then?” as she’d hit out at him in mock-indignation.

He smiled at her now, and she smiled back happily when she saw him looking.

Noora eventually got bored of playing.  Isak began to whine, and Jonas rolled his eyes before removing his gloves and taking the guitar from her.

“Play _I’m Y_ -” Isak began, and Jonas fixed him with a warning glare as Isak cackled with laughter.

“Play Justin Bieber!” Magnus said again.  Jonas didn’t even dignify this with a response.

“I’m going to play your stupid gay castle song,” he told Isak, who looked at him in disbelief, shocked that he’d remembered.  But of course Jonas had remembered.  He’d listened to it over and over in the weeks after his suicide attempt.  He’d committed it to heart.  Because it had reminded Isak of Jonas, of Jonas _and_ Isak, and that had meant everything to Jonas at the time.  It still did, in a way.

 _“When I was six years old I broke my leg. I was running from my brother and his friends_ ,” he began.  Isak joined in, and then they all sang, their collective voices lifting over the waves that lapped near them and the crackle of the campfire.

“ _And I'm on my way, I still remember these old country lanes, when we did not know the answers. And I miss the way you make me feel, it's real.  We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill_.”

His voice became croaky and thick after that; he told them it was because the heat from the fire had got to the back of his throat.  Magnus and Mahdi laughed at him, telling him he was getting soppy now he was at Bakka, but Isak looked at him with a knowing expression on his face and Jonas breathed out deeply, giving the emotions he felt in that moment exactly the right amount of attention they needed, before moving on to another song.

 

***

 

They came in late, shivering and huddling together for warmth.  The girls, with the exception of Eva, headed straight to the bedroom; she exchanged a quick kiss with Vilde, telling her she was going to sit up.  Vilde hugged each of them in turn, Isak for a little longer as she kissed his cheek and told him, “Good luck.”

Magnus and Mahdi headed to the small study, barely big enough for a small puppy to curl up in, but it was the warmest place in the cabin so they persevered.

Eva and Jonas sat down on the sofa as Even and Isak went to use the bathroom.  When they came back, freshly showered, heat radiating from them, Isak looked at Eva with a vague expression on his face.  Even stood beside him, his arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

“I don’t like that door being shut,” Isak said to them.

Jonas and Eva stood up and followed them to the door leading to the smaller bedroom; the bedroom where Isak had slept, over two years ago now. and where Jonas had instructed Elias to sleep with him.  He clung to Eva’s hand and she told him it was okay.  Ahead of them, Even asked Isak if he was sure about this.  The blonde boy nodded and then put his hand on the door handle.

He looked at Jonas and Eva, and Jonas nodded at him.  And then he opened it.

It was exactly how Jonas had remembered it, not that he’d spent too much time in here.  The twin beds, the empty desk and chair in the corner, the old fashioned wardrobe.  Even the same multi-coloured rug on the floor, worn through with age.

Isak walked in.  He was completely silent, his eyes trained on one of the beds.

“You know,” Eva said.  “My mum is thinking of redecorating.”

“Oh?” Isak asked throatily.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t care if some stuff got damaged.”

They took the mattress from the bed that Isak had slept in, and stared at the chipped, creaky-looking bed frame.  Isak jumped on top of it first, and then Even smiled before joining him.  Finally Eva and Jonas stood on it.

They jumped in synchronisation until it gave way beneath their feet.

Afterwards, Jonas and Eva left the room in order to give Isak and Even some space.  Even had begun to cry, and so had Isak, and as Jonas left they were holding each other close, both reassuring the other that it was going to be okay.  

 

***

 

Much later that night, they sat on the sofas with blankets pulled over them and played the old trivia game that Jonas and Isak had used once upon a time to act like arseholes to Eva.  This time, she was able to answer more questions than Isak, and just as many as Jonas.  Even, though, was the clear winner.  He smiled, his head tilted back on the sofa as Isak nestled into his lap.

“My boyfriend’s so smart,” Isak told him, pretending he was joking, but he’d never been able to disguise his pride when it came to Even.  He leaned in for a kiss and Even grabbed his hips and somehow managed to pull him even closer.

“You two need to get a room,” Eva told them.  Even raised an eyebrow at her.

“We just broke the bed, though.”

He kissed Isak’s cheek as his boyfriend laughed quietly.

“So things are good, right?” Eva asked them.  “You’re over that whole…”

“The last manic episode was hard,” Even answered honestly.  Jonas had heard about this from Eva; he’d found out that during the episode, Even had fixated on Elias, to the extent that he had gone to visit him in prison without telling Isak.  Afterwards, he had told Isak he was going to hand himself in to the police for assaulting Elias, and Isak had needed to barricade them both into his bedroom, crying and begging Even until the urge had passed.

“But we’re doing better,” Even continued with a decisive tone.  “He isn’t getting rid of me that easily.”  He looked at Isak, and Isak looked back, pressing his forehead against Even’s.  “This was a really good idea,” Even continued.  “Thank you for suggesting it.”

“You’re okay, right, Isak?” Jonas asked.  Isak looked at him and nodded.

“I mean… it’s weird being here.  But look,” he said, gesturing to the Christmas decorations, to the twinkling lights on the tree.  “It’s completely different.  A good different.  Elias isn’t here.  I don’t feel him here, not in any part of this place.”  He looked down at Even from his perch on his lap, a smile curling on his pretty face.  “I just feel… safe.”

He thought about this and blushed.  “Wow, that was cheesy.”

“No, it’s good,” Jonas said quickly.  "It's good you feel that way."  He blinked.  “Damn, have I got something in my eye?”

They laughed quietly, and reflected in silence for a few moments, until  Even looked across at him and raised his eyebrow.

“Another round of trivia?”

“I’m way too tired,” Eva groaned.  She curled up on the sofa, pulling the blanket around her.  “You guys play, though.”

They did, but mostly Isak watched Jonas and Even trying to outdo each other.  Even started to grow sluggish towards the end, and Jonas claimed defeat once the older boy had fallen asleep.  Isak smiled at him fondly as he began to snore lightly.

“His new meds.  One minute he’s awake, the next he’s gone.”  He clicked his fingers to show how quickly.  “Plus they’ve made him snore.”

“Oh, well,” Jonas said, resigned, as he shifted slightly to make himself comfortable.  “I’m not planning on sleeping anyway.”

“No?”

“No.  I’m going to stay up with you.  Even if you fall asleep.  I’m not going to sleep tonight.”

Isak looked at him, his expression shifting with understanding at the gesture.

“Do you think that will help?” he asked.  Jonas nodded.

“I wish I’d stayed up with you that night,” he said in response.  “Sometimes I fixate on that so badly.”  

Isak stirred slightly.  “And I wish I’d just told you how I was feeling.”

“But then,” Jonas said, “If either of us got our wish, it wouldn’t have worked out like this.  I mean, it may have worked out better, but it could have been a lot worse.”

Isak smiled mischievously.  “As far as philosophical thoughts go, Jonas, that was kind of one of your more basic ones.”

“Hey!” Jonas said, chuckling.  “I’m just… trying to find some reasoning behind all of this.”

“There’s no reasoning.  A crappy thing happened in here.  And then we went through some good stuff, and some more crappy stuff, and then more good stuff.  But we’re here now, and we’re safe and we’re.... _mildly_ warm…. and we’re still best friends.”  Isak breathed out and it sounded like a sigh of relief.  “ _What must be shall be_.”

“ _T_ _hat’s a certain text_ ,” Jonas replied automatically, his literature lessons kicking in.  Isak looked at him with a fake-panicked expression on his face.

“Don’t let Even hear you quoting _Romeo And Juliet_ back at me, he’ll challenge you to a duel or something.”

“Okay, how about this?” Jonas asked.  “ _What’s past is prologue_.”

Isak thought about this.  “So… you’re saying that what happened here was was part of the story, but it was only the start?”

Jonas nodded.

“I like that better."  He smiled contentedly. "Which one is that from?”

“ _T_ _he Tempest_.”

Isak repeated it.  “ _What’s past is prologue_.  That’s good.  Really good.”

“Even isn’t the only one who knows hipster Shakespeare quotations.”

They settled into silence, and eventually Isak began to drift off to sleep.  When his eyes finally gave way completely, his head falling against Even’s chest, Jonas walked silently over to the sofa they were sprawled out on and made sure his best friend was covered in the thickest blanket he could find.  He tucked it into the corners of the sofa so that he was wrapped up completely.  

Then he looked at Isak’s face, at the halo of his blonde hair, and though Jonas sighed slightly as he looked at him, he felt at peace.  He no longer felt the need to take anything more from Isak than Isak was able to give.  He didn’t think he’d ever stop loving him, but this love was better; it wasn’t poisonous or obsessive or destructive or even sexual.  It was just love.

He pressed a kiss to Isak’s forehead and then backed away, retreating back to the sofa he was sharing with Eva.

He could have fallen asleep now as well, but he’d made a promise to himself that he would stay up all night tonight, and tomorrow night as well, because once, a lifetime ago, he hadn’t done that.  

Now, he decided, it was time to put that right.


End file.
